


this is where it gets me

by angelicaswork



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hamliza, Mild Smut, Post-Reynolds Pamphlet, kind of idk - Freeform, some mature scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-04-07 06:25:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14074884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelicaswork/pseuds/angelicaswork
Summary: eliza recovers, alexander suffers.





	1. chapter one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alexander settles into his office for an undetermined amount of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating is mature because my ass decided to add a *flashback* mature scene in here. enjoy, i guess.

In August, baby William Hamilton is born, and Eliza feels some of the joy she’s lacked start creeping back up on her, enough to allow Alexander into the room when he’s born, but under one condition; Angelica stays in the room this time as well. 

 

Eliza screams, clutching Angelica’s hand tightly. Alexander wants to do something to help the situation, but Angelica swats him away whenever he tries. Eliza doesn’t look at him, not once. His heart lurches, it’s almost too painful for him to bear. 

 

When William is born, Alex cuts his umbilical cord like he has the last five times. 

 

Angelica goes back out to check on the kids. She left Philip in charge. They are alone for a moment, Eliza is holding their new son, sobbing happily as she takes in the little boy’s features, watching his tiny fists clench. He’s beautiful, and Eliza is instantly overcome with emotion. She smiles for the first time in a month.

 

Alex holds William, studies him as Eliza sleeps. He looks like Eliza, he can see it in his tiny features. He’s absolutely perfect, Eliza’s nose, his eyes, her bone structure.

 

He smiles for the first time in quite a while, taking in the pure joy of welcoming another Hamilton baby into the world.

 

He wishes that William was enough for Eliza to forgive him.

 

But he knows she hates him right now, and he kind of hates him too. 

 

.

 

William comes home. Eliza sleeps in their bed though it’s more her bed than theirs. Alexander sleeps in his office on an air mattress.

 

Philip wishes his parents would talk, even if it’s just a few words in passing.

 

But communication between them seems to be like a severed phone cord. They don’t connect, not the way they used to. Complete static. 

 

He watches one morning as his parents bounce around each other in the kitchen, Eliza pouring cereal for little John and Alex writing like he does twenty-four seven. Angie sits across from him, cursing over some math homework that she’s struggling with. It’s like Angie to do her math homework in the mornings because she’s never been great at math, something that frustrates her. 

 

“Phil, do you know what the square root of eighty-three is?” She asks, the eraser on her pencil wearing as thin as her patience.

 

“Nope. I don’t know if you forgot, but I’m not a math genius either.” Philip says with a slight shrug of his shoulder. He can’t quite focus. Angie knows him well enough to notice but doesn’t comment on it. 

 

Angie rolls her eyes, picking her phone up and typing something into Google.

 

Soon enough, all of the Hamilton children are downstairs, save for William who sleeps peacefully in his crib until Eliza is ready to wake him for the day, ready to get into the car and go to school. Eliza kisses each of her children goodbye, neglecting to kiss Alexander as she usually would when he drops the kids off at school.

 

It’s not like he expected much. He’s allowing her to heal.

 

.

 

Alexander returns home, doesn’t call out for Eliza like he usually would. Instead, he goes to check on William, makes sure everything is okay, but really he’s using that as an excuse for himself to go look at his newest son.

 

He opens the nursery door carefully, looks upon the gray walls and the white frame of the crib, and Eliza’s mother’s old oak rocking chair that was so old it would creek whenever anyone sat in it.

 

The lights were off and their tiny boy, just a few weeks old is sleeping peacefully, a blanket snuggled to his little body. 

 

William is tinier than he remembers any of his other children being at birth and in infancy. He remembers holding him hours after he was born in the hospital, eyes wide as he realized how small the baby was.

 

He grew a little, Alexander can tell. 

 

William is like Eliza though, something that excites him but also haunts him wearily.

 

He realizes that Eliza is everything.

 

The very center of his universe, she’s the reason he changed, the reason he drove himself into the ground with work, he just wanted to provide for Eliza and their children.

 

He supposes he has, but even Eliza alone, it seemed, was never enough for him. 

 

She is now. He realizes that with perfect clarity, Eliza is enough. She’s more than enough. She’s plenty. She’s more than he deserves.

 

And she stayed.

 

.

 

Eliza finds herself longing for Alexander. Her heart aches and so does her head.

 

She finds herself wishing he would sleep beside her and hold her with his arm wrapped around her waist and his warm and even breaths hitting her skin. She feels wrong. He’s supposed to be learning a lesson. She’s only here because she cares so immensely for her children and he better understand that she is not here for him.

 

She’s here for their broken family, picking up the pieces and taping and gluing them back together to the best of her ability.

 

Alexander is not the reason for that.

 

She stands, swiftly on her feet from the bed they used to share the bed he—

 

Her brain chokes on the thought and she walks to the bathroom, looks at herself in the mirror and wonders if she was ever enough for him. If their children were ever actually enough.

 

Her hormones are raging, her entire body is in shambles now. Maybe she’s over-analyzing it.

 

But damn, she misses him.

 

She misses knowing full and well that he was all hers.

 

She inhales sharply at the thought, slips back into bed and cries until she falls asleep.

 

.

 

_Air feels like it’s quickly escaping her lungs. Her chest feels tight, her throat is dry and all she wants, all she needs is him._

 

_He’s swift, always has been. He hovers over her, lips suddenly attached to her neck, fingers fiddling between her thighs._

_She sighs, blushes, flustered as hell. She’s usually not like this, but tonight, it feels sort of like they’re horny college kids again, quietly fucking in the Schuyler Mansion, knowing there’s a chance they could be caught by her sisters, or worse, her parents._

_They’re adults now. They have children, children that are their world, well hers at least, children that are sleeping soundly upstairs._

_A gasp rips from Eliza’s throat._

_Alexander chuckles._

_“Good?” He asks, out of breath, his hair falling around his face as he fiddles with a lock of hers with one hand while the other is busy._

_“Y-Yeah.” She blushes madly, cheeks scarlet and impossibly hot. She nods off, trying to hide her face to hide the embarrassing blush on her cheeks. Even after so long, seventeen years of marriage, she still hides her face when she blushes._

_Alexander cups her cheek. “You’re blushing, Betsey.” He smiles devilishly, definitely, a finger slipping into her. She moans, blushes harder, and covers her own mouth with her hand._

_“Still good?” He asks, calm, collected like he’s not doing that to her right now._

_She nods, too embarrassed to speak, she knows if she does, she’ll probably yelp loudly instead._

_“I bet I can make it better.” He whispers, mouth near her ear, biting at her lobe and licking the shell of her ear. She cries, strangled. He’s always one-upping himself, she’s rather used to it by now. “Should I?”_

_Another strangled cry. “Please.” She says, and she’s proud that the word is cohesive with no stutters of mess-ups._

_He smiles wickedly, sitting up on his knees and angling himself to her, plunging in unrelentingly._

_It’s then that she yelps. It’s loud._

_He thrusts. She screams. He moans. She bucks her hips up into him._

_She shutters, it’s so good. He’s so good._

_“F-fuck, Alexander—oh!”_

_They finish, lay together, and she cuddles with him. It’s blissful._

_A few weeks later, she stares down at a pregnancy test, lip bitten back. Baby number six is on the way._

_._

 

Work becomes harder. It’s less of an escape from Eliza’s resentment and more so a torture chamber where Madison and Jefferson are concerned. Jefferson taunts, Madison is his babysitter, nothing really changes except for the nature of Jefferson’s taunts. He can’t stand it anymore. 

 

_Maria Reynolds this, Maria Reynolds that._

 

Alexander would really like to punch that asshole right in the jaw and walk out.

 

Washington advises against physical violence, however.

 

He spends the majority of the day trying to justify his actions, but he really can’t. He stares at the picture on his desk that faces him, framed, all five of his children (excluding little Will because he was still in the womb at the time) smiling brilliantly, Philip towering over his brothers and sisters in height, Angie smiling and the rest of the children in an orderly line.

 

The picture next to it is the one that hurts to look at. It’s of him and Eliza, on the same day the picture of their children had been taken, they'd had a photo shoot, something the Hamiltons did once in a millennium. Her stomach is round, she’s smiling and he’s standing behind her, hands on her bump.

 

He really wants to go home.

 

He wants to see his Betsey, even if she doesn’t want to see him.

 

.

 

She catches him. He’s writing in his office around nine thirty while she’s tucking John, James, and Junior into bed, kissing Philip and Angie on the way back to her room and checking in on William.

 

She peeks discreetly into the room, the low light of his office shining through.

 

There an air mattress sitting on the floor obviously slept in and disheveled.

 

She walks past, finding the courage to just go, because she can’t look at him without the slightest pang of disgust, without wondering if his wedding vows to her meant nothing. Or if all of his passionate declarations of love for her were nothing. She feels sick to her stomach when she thinks about what he’s done to her, to their family.

 

The Hamiltons could never be the perfect family they were before.

 

She credits that to Alexander.

 

.

 

_She nuzzles his shoulder. His hand is on the slight curve of her belly, soothing their sixth child as he or she kicks rather violently. She realizes and had realized early in her pregnancy with Philip, that Alexander had some kind of magic touch when it came to settling their babies, in and out of the womb._

_“You gonna sleep?” He asks amid the darkness, pressing repeated kisses to her forehead. He’s incessantly tender, she notices, but he’s always been that way, especially when she’s pregnant. She loves that about him._

_“Yeah.” She smiles. “God knows I need it with chasing those children of yours around the house all of the time.”_

_He snickers. “They’re restless like me, what can I say?”_

_She giggles softly into his shoulder, running her fingers through his hair._

_He swallows, mouth running dry all of the sudden._

_He’s so guilty. So guilty he’s unsure how Eliza doesn’t notice it. His pores practically seep of guilt coming from the inside. She’s not naive. She’s just unaware and that’s his fault._

_He hates everything he’s done, despises it._

_He hates that when she finds out she’ll be heartbroken and that she’ll feel betrayed._

_Eliza deserves more from him. He knows that._

.

 

Philip decides that he’s had enough. Dinner is quiet, Eliza tells John to eat his vegetables, Alexander stares, Angie does her homework while eating, something her father would do, but instead of homework, it would be whatever assignment Washington had him on at the time.

 

He leaves the house. Eliza furrows a brow when her oldest son walks out of the house, telling them that he’ll be home before midnight, he’s going to Adrienne and Lafayette’s house to do homework with Georges.

 

It’s a lie, but Eliza allows him to go.

 

He walks down the street, steady on the curb. The streets are wet from the fresh rain that had stopped for the moment and the air is humid. His hands reside in his pockets, hood covering his hunched head. He’s anxious, so he starts running after a bit. 

 

He arrives at a brick house, looks upon the tall structure and runs to a side window.

 

He knocks on Theodosia Burr’s window, looking into the purple blob of her room. 

 

She giggles, he can hear it through the glass, and she lunges to unlock the window, letting him inside. Philip is winded, she can see, he must have run here, which worries her.

 

"You okay?' She asks in greeting, worried.

 

Theo is kind, cares a lot about him especially amid the Hamiltons’ current situation. He sits on her purple bedspread, feels vulnerable, but he doesn’t seem to mind around Theo. Usually, he’s always the one headstrong, he doesn’t like to let people know that he’s human too. Around Theo, he feels like he can let go. She understands.

 

He wonders if his father ever felt that way about his mother when they were younger and, ultimately, freer. 

 

Philip sighs, fiddles with the strings on his hoodie, avoids her eyes. 

 

She takes a wild guess. “It was your parents again, wasn’t it?” She asks carefully, wants to do the best she can to comfort him. Mrs. Hamilton is the nicest woman she’s ever met, save for her mother who has been gone for some time now, but still. Mr. Hamilton, as said by her father, is arrogant, loud, belligerent. Philip is such a unique combination of his parents, she notices, kind but outspoken. 

 

“Yeah. It’s not like they fight. They don’t. Honestly, I think I would feel better if they fought because they don’t even acknowledge each other, at least they would be communicating, you know? I mean, sometimes I see Dad look at Mom, and he looks… remorseful, but Mom just ignores him. And she won’t divorce him, if she was going to she would have done that already. I just… I don’t know anymore, Theo.” Philip looks distressed, sighs because he misses when his parents were happy.

 

He misses just being normal like he was before.

 

“I’m sorry, Phil, I wish I knew what to tell you.” Theo sighs, placing a hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him.

 

“You just being here helps.” He says with a sigh, his lungs heaving. 

 

So, she stays until Philip leaves by nine, saying that he needs to be home to help the younger children to bed. He kisses Theo’s forehead and climbs from her window, waving and waking back down the wet street. She tells him to be careful and to call her before he goes to bed. He nods it off. She smiles warmly, closes the window. 

 

Theo locks her window back up. The minute he leaves, she misses him so much more than she knows is appropriate. 

 

.

 

William is not a quiet baby. Eliza first noticed that a week after he came home when he wailed loudly from his crib. She’s had enough experience in the past fifteen years since Philip was first born when it came to situations like these, so she handles him well.

 

Alexander tries to pretend he doesn’t awake when little William does, listening from the wall when Eliza comforts the little guy, talking softly to him and rocking him in that old, oak rocking chair he’d bought before Philip arrived. The old wood creaks, he can hear the faint sounds from his office, one room over from the nursery.

 

He wants to be there, walk in and kiss Eliza’s cheek, looking over her shoulder as she cradles their newest son, singing softly to him in French. He wants to be the way they were when John was born before he made all of those mistakes that he regrets so fervently. 

 

But he’s not sure Eliza is ready for that. He doesn’t want to burden her. 

 

He knows how she feels and he understands.

 

So he stays back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there’s the first chapter! i’m sorry if it kind of sucks, i’m trying this new writing style that supposed to be kind of short and choppy so if you don’t like it, tell me because i want this fic to be the best it can be. also, my goal for the words each chapter is 2500 or higher so buckle up for some semi-long chapters. please give feedback, comments and kudos make me smile! 
> 
> check me out on tumblr if you like excessive hamilton memes: schuylerrham.


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> boundaries are set and then crossed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! chapter two. i’m honestly surprised at my own commitment to this story, i usually never really get past chapter one. i know that technically johh laurens is buried in South Carolina (his place of birth), but for this story, he’s buried in Trinity Church with everyone else. okay, enjoy!
> 
> rating is mature again. you’ve been warned.

William starts to grow. He gains a few pounds, starts laughing and giggling, tugging his mother’s hair innocently when she holds him.

 

He grows and it reminds Eliza of how much she loves being a mother and how much unconditional love she has to spare for all of her children.

 

Alexander becomes somewhat distracted. His office gets lonely, so lonely that he opens the curtains sometimes and wonders if his mother can see him. She died so long ago that he’s adjusted to not having her here, but he misses her. She was the only person in his childhood that cared about him. And she died, she died miserable, sick and holding him in her arms.

 

He was only twelve at the time. He barely understood.

 

He looks at baby Will and wonders if he’ll ever be enough, for Eliza, for their children, for his mother, for himself.

 

The stars bring back good memories, he observes.

 

He remembers, in the stressful atmosphere of college, sitting with Eliza on a picnic blanket at night, atop green grass, looking up at the sky.

 

Eliza always loved the stars.

 

He smiles softly to himself, falls asleep, dreaming about his dearest Betsey, wishing it were enough.

 

.

 

Philip goes to school. He has bags under his eyes, and out of the corner of her eye, Frances Laurens, John’s daughter, spots him. She’s observant, reminds him of the stories his Papa always told about Lieutenant Colonel Laurens, his ragged spontaneity, his many freckles, his stupid jokes.

 

Papa always said he looked like Laurens, acted like him too.

 

Frances is a few paces after him, black curls bouncing as she runs after him in busted, muddy white sneakers.

 

“Philip!” She grabs him by the arm when she catches up to him. He’s surprised at how strong she is for being so much shorter than him. She stops for a moment. “Damn, forgot how much you look like my Pops.”

 

“What do you want, Fran? I’m gonna be late to bio—“

 

“Stop that, now, we’re friends, right?”

 

“Yeah.” He sighs.

 

A smile curls on her lips. “Anyway, I was wondering if you wanna come hang out with Theo, Georges, and I. We’re gonna study for that exam in physics.” She asks with a certain sincerity in her voice.

 

“I’ve got a lot going on, Fran, I don’t know if I can just—“

 

“Just try okay? And if you can’t come, that’s okay.”

 

Philip ponders. ”Okay.”

 

.

 

_Alexander watches, observant as ever as Eliza and the younger children bake. James is just at Eliza’s waist in height, while little John pads on bare feet, nearly up to his mother’s knee._

_She helps Angie a little with her cake batter, points out the mistakes and gently helps her fix them while John and James eat frosting with sticky fingers._

_His guilt grows and shifts into something that now haunts him, burdens his existence and makes him look at Eliza’s growing belly and question himself._

_Why, why, why did he have to do this?_

_The kids eat cake after dinner that night, Philip is the greediest one. Eliza credits it to him growing, even if he is a teenager now. Jamie and John make a subsequent mess of frosting a cake and John giggles incessantly when Eliza wipes his face with a cloth._

_Eliza throws in the towel early, and he's happy to get the kids to bed. Angie, Philip, and Junior get themselves to bed just fine, it’s Jamie and John Eliza worries about. But, Alexander figures, the least he can do is tuck them in. So he does._

_And when the kids are all tucked into bed, Eliza tries to conceal her moans, muffled by Alexander’s bare shoulder, careful not to wake them._

_His guilt grows and weaves intricately into his very existence._

.

 

They run into each other in the kitchen when the kids are all gone to school one day, Will is asleep upstairs.

 

He studies her as she digs through the fridge. He sees everything he's missed for so long, her long brown hair through his fingers, thumbs rubbing her jarring hip bone, his lips on hers, further down and onto her neck.

 

He sighs, not loud enough for her to hear and turn to him. His palms sweat. He clenches his fists. 

 

They don't talk. She leaves with a cold water bottle in hand. He stands and misses her mere presence for a moment.

 

He longs for her.

 

She hides it well, but she longs for him too.

 

.

 

He writes like crazy. His fingers are moving faster on his keyboard than they ever have, clattering away erratically. The bags under his eyes grow, he doesn’t eat that night, lives solely off of coffee, before Eliza, admittedly, gets worried.

 

No matter what he did, he’s still her husband and she loves him.

 

She loves him.

 

So she breaks the silence between them.

 

“Have you eaten anything?” She asks, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes stern and unrelenting on him. Those are the first words she’s said to him in so long. 

 

Alexander is startled. She's speaking to him, not giving him glares and ignoring her need for him, but using words. Speaking. 

 

Never has he been so amazed by the concept. 

 

No voice has ever sounded as tranquil and comforting as hers does at this moment.

 

He breathes her in.

 

God, he loves his Betsey.

 

”No.” he sighs, his glasses on the bridge of his nose and his eyes firmly set on her.

 

She looks down, avoiding his eyes.

 

”Eat, please,” she says it so simply, leaves his office door open and walks off, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

 

He listens, eats a granola bar and returns to his typing.

 

.

 

_His fingers skim lightly over her stomach, swollen and protruding outward. He loves this. He loves her like this, swollen and achy, just about to give birth. He smiles against her ear. There’s something about her in this state, so vulnerable, so beautiful, that baffles him, makes him smile with outright glee every time he so much as glances at her._

 

_Their position is makeshift, his chest smeared across her back, her thighs clenched around his hand._

_Everything is vivid, each thrust of his fingers is better than the last, increasing in speed. Eliza flushes. Her senses are so much more awake than they were just five minutes ago and she can feel herself start to lose what little control she already had._

_She squeezes Alexander’s hand, sighing exaggeratedly._

_His guilt is larger than ever two days later when he finalizes the Reynolds Pamphlet. He sees tears fall on the page. He wipes them away._

.

 

John learns to read. He’s very enthusiastic about it, picks out his favorite bedtime story,  _The Little Train That Could_ , and Alexander sits beside him in his twin sized bed in the room he shares with James. John loves reading, like his father, can’t get enough of it.

 

“Mama! Look! I can read! Papa taught me how.” He says enthusiastically when he sees his mother in the doorway, watching with earnest eyes.

 

“I know, good job, buddy.” She says, her smile is wide, Alexander has to look away because it’s infectious. He can feel the beginnings of his own smile start to form. He doesn’t want to intimidate her, so he focuses on John.

 

“Wanna hear?” John asks, incredibly proud.

 

Eliza nods and walks tentatively over to the bed and sits beside John, placing a hand on his tiny back. Alexander looks at her, she can feel his eyes on her. She looks down at their son, avoiding his eyes

 

“Go ahead, bud, we’re listening,” Alexander affirms, watching John as he holds the book at a strange angle that somehow works for him to read out of.

 

“‘ _Chug chug chug…_ ’” John begins reading, Alexander watches Eliza as smile smiles down at their boy, reading slowly, stuttering slightly.

 

Her hand finds his from behind John’s back. She wraps her fingers around his and neither of them resists.

 

.

 

_They fall into a routine. Eliza reaches her second trimester, and she’s liberated. Her energy is back, she’s not hacking into the toilet each morning. Alexander smiles when she turns over in bed, reveling at the twinges she feels when their little one kicks. It’s not a new sensation, but its one that they always cherish together._

_He hugs her tightly, breathing his every breath into her neck, staring as the sun rises outside._

_They’re both bare and cold, Eliza nestling into him, absorbing what little body heat he has. He rubs her back. It’s overwhelming, the love he has for her, the burning feeling in the pit of his stomach when he hugs her close and rubs her back, both naked as the days they were born._

_His guilt enthralls him. He kisses her head and relishes her utter beauty, attempting fruitlessly to push the thoughts out his mind, now of all times._

_He can’t. He can’t forget._

_He's so afraid._

 

.

 

Eliza is in Will’s nursery when her phone buzzes on his dresser. She looks up from William’s sleeping face as she rocks him in her mother’s old oak rocking chair. She picks her phone up from the dresser, kisses her youngest son’s forehead as she places him in the crib and answers the phone rather hesitantly.

 

Before she can even greet the person on the other line, Martha Washington gasps shrilly into the receiver, as if relieved. “Eliza! I’ve finally gotten ahold of you, thank goodness!”

 

Eliza smiles fondly. Martha had always been a dear friend of hers, like a second mother, though not to disgrace Catherine, her actual mother. She assumes that it was because of Alexander’s involvement with George that their wives got so close. It brings her to remember times when they’d attend congressional dinners, times that Eliza almost longed for now. They were so much more simple then than they are now. Happier, too. 

 

"Is something wrong?" Eliza asks, somewhat alarmed at this point.

 

"No, no. I just haven't talked to you since..." she sighs, disregarding whatever she was planning to say. Eliza has an inkling it's about the Pamphlet. "How is little Will? George told me about him and showed me the pictures Alexander sent him, he's precious."

 

"Oh, William is amazing. He isn't growing as fast as Philip and the others have as far as I can tell." Eliza smiles, looking over at the crib that each of her children had used during their infancies. Alexander picked it out when they were expecting Philip. It’s hard to believe that that was fifteen years ago. William is sound asleep, so she decides to cover him with his favorite blanket and let him rest, though it's not his usual nap time.

 

"That's amazing. How about you and Alexander? Is everything okay?"

 

Eliza's smile falters and her hand quivers. She knows full and well that Martha's intention is not to be intrusive. It has never been.

 

"Fine, we are fine." She lies. It stings.

 

.

 

_Eliza sits on the porch outside of the Schuyler Mansion, rather eager to see Alexander again. She’d nearly fainted when he’d called her and told her that Washington had given him leave and sent him home for a reason he did not name. He sounded rather upset, as she recalls, but she can’t bring herself to think of that as she sits, anxious to see her husband again after the five long months he’d been away at war._

_She sits for almost twenty minutes, her leg bouncing up and down as she checks every few minutes for a car trekking up the long dirt road leading to her family’s house in the woods. It isn’t until she sees his car, arriving in the driveway that she stands and waves to him from the porch to get his attention._

_He abandons his bags in favor of greeting her._

_“Hi.” He says, laughing softly as he hugs her tightly to him._

_“Hey, I missed you.” She laughs, overjoyed._

_When they pull away, Alexander’s eyes grow wide. His hands fly to her stomach, caressing the small bump that had started to form there. His face contorts with amazement and almost childlike wonder. “Eliza—are you?” He's stunned, almost unable to talk._

_Eliza nods, tears finding their way to her eyes. “Yeah, I am.”_

_“How long have you known?”_

_“A month or so.”_

_“Eliza—“_

 

_“I know, I’m sorry I just… I wanted to tell you in person.” She cups his face in her hands as tears make paths down his cheeks._

_“Oh, Eliza, you have no idea how happy this makes me.”_

_“We’re enough?” She murmurs, looking at him with glassy eyes and the most stunning smile he’s ever seen in his life._

_“Of course.” He kisses her belly, so unbelievably happy._

_He looks back and wonders how he managed to ruin something so perfect._

.

 

The younger kids are all asleep, tucked away safely into their beds when Philip opens his window to jump out and walk to Theo’s house. The window lock clicks, Alexander Jr., whom he shares a room with, stirs from his sleep and sits up.

 

“Philip, what are you doing?” He asks, half-awake and confused.

 

“Nothing. Don’t worry.” Philip shushes, waving a hand in dismissal.

 

“I’ll tell mom and dad.” Junior threatens.

 

“I’m going to see Theo. I’ll be back soon. Why is it any of your business, anyway?” 

 

"Is she your girlfriend?" Junior snickers. He's eleven, he's childish and stupid a lot of the time. Angie likes to tease him, usually it gets him to shut up. Philip kind of wishes she was awake right now.

 

"Again, not your business." Philip muses. removing the screen from the window and looking out at the darkness. He jumps out, glad that he's on the first level.

 

"Go back to sleep, huh? You have school tomorrow, you need to sleep."

 

"So do you!" Junior shouts as Philip ignores it with a chuckle and closes the window, making his way down the street.

 

He can't wait to see Theo again. He walks a bit faster than usual.

 

.

 

Alexander visits the graveyard routinely, he has ever since John died fifteen years ago. He’d sit by the headstone, careful not to lean against it, and he’d talk like he would when John was alive and they’d talk about whatever was of interest at the time. Nothing is different now, only that when he talks, he gets no response. 

 

He hasn’t been back since the Pamphlet made its way into the media almost four months ago. He has so much going on between William and all the other kids and work. 

 

It’s kind of therapeutic really, just talking, getting it all out and knowing that John is listening. Even if he isn’t, Alexander likes to thinks he is.

 

.

 

_Alexander finds a quiet place to read Eliza’s latest letter, having found his way into Washington’s cabin. He always jitters with excitement when he receives a letter from her. He loves the things she writes, the way her letters curl up and over so beautifully. He smiles, crinkling the paper in his hands as his eyes skim over it. He misses her, so much more than he can even explain. He just wants this war to be over as quickly as it can be. He yearns for her more than he'd probably like to admit and every letter she sends him is something he cherishes so deeply._

_There’s a knock at the door. Alexander jumps from Washington’s wooden desk, startled._

_John chuckles as he props the door open with his arm. “What the hell are you doing in here?”_

_“Eliza’s letter arrived, I wanted to read it in private.” He says, folding the paper and tucking it safely into his pocket for later. He's never been more eager to read one of her letters._

_“Ah,” John says knowingly, nodding his head in understanding. “Forgot how smitten you were with her.”_

_“I’m gonna marry her one day, John. I know it.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! i’ve been working on this chapter for quite some time, since before the first chapter was posted so don’t expect my updates to be as frequent, but i promise the wait won’t be too long! i wanted to get this out to you all as quickly as possible because the response to the first chapter was a lot more than i expected it to be and i’m flattered! also, i have other hamliza stories that are still works in progress, but i’d like to know if you guys want more hamliza fanfic from me. leave your feedback in the comments and give kudos if you enjoyed! it all really motivates me!
> 
> check out my tumblr: schuylerrham


	3. chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things improve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! another quick update because the last few chapters have been received so well here on ao3 and tumblr so thank you to everyone who liked/reblogged my tumblr post and anyone who gave kudos/bookmarked or commented on my story! i am so grateful! fun fact: angelica's oldest child’s name was also philip. please don’t be afraid to leave a comment! i do my best to answer every one i get!

_“Peggy!” Angelica calls, from the bottom of the staircase, ready and unwilling to be late. She’s always punctual and she won’t let Peggy or Eliza’s taking forever to get ready make her late._

_She’s Angelica Schuyler for God’s sake._

_“I’m coming! Geez, Ang.” Peggy races down the stairs, her ponytail of curls bouncing._

_“Where’s Eliza?” Angelica asks, looking up the stairs, expecting to see Eliza coming down by now._

_“She doesn’t wanna come. You know how she hates these parties.” Peggy shrugs, pulling her phone from her purse and busying herself with it._

_Angelica sighs exaggeratedly, climbing back up the staircase, and to the door of Eliza’s room. She knocks softly, waiting for a response._

_“What?” Eliza groans, obviously frustrated._

_“Liza, it’s me, you need to come downstairs, we have to go.” Angelica urges._

_“I don’t want to!” Eliza stresses the words more than she probably meant to, but Angelica will not have that as an excuse. She opens the door to see Eliza lying comfortably on her bed, unwilling to move an inch._

_Eliza hates parties. She hates the loud music and stupid flashing lights, and how rowdy everyone gets after a few drinks. She hates sitting on the couch, sipping a beer, but not really enjoying it._

_“Why not?” Angelica asks soothingly, sitting on the bed beside her sister and brushing some hair from her face._

_“You know I’m not like you. I don’t catch any of the guys’ attention. I’m_ not interesting or pretty like you.” Eliza pouts disappointed tears trekking paths down her cheeks. 

 

_“Oh, come on, Eliza, don’t say that. You’re beautiful! And you are interesting, you have the biggest heart out of anyone I’ve ever known. Of_ course _guys notice you, they’re probably just too scared to go up to you and ask you out or whatever.” Angelica says reassuringly, smiling down at her younger sister. Angelica always knows what to say to make Eliza feel better._

_Eliza wraps her arms around her sister. Angelica squeezes her into a tight hug._

_Peggy knocks at the open door. “Hey, are you guys—“ she smiles, rushing over and joining in with her sisters._

_“Can’t forget you, Peg,” Eliza says, wrapping an arm around Peggy’s shoulders. “I love you guys.”_

_It’s now that Eliza knows, no matter what, her sisters have her back and that she loves them both so much._

.

 

Angelica takes root in the Hamilton home. She helps her namesake, Angie, with her scales on the piano routinely, plays with James and John in the living room, and helps Junior with his complicated algebra homework. Eliza can’t exactly understand why she isn’t home with her own children, but she supposes that John, Angelica’s husband, has them under control. It’s a good thing that Angelica is home, settled with her husband and children into a nice, cozy home. Eliza often wondered when John’s term in Parliament would be over so she could finally see her sister and nieces and nephews again. It’s a relief, especially now, to have Angelica home.

 

Another plus, Eliza supposes, is that they can see Peggy regularly together now. Peggy has been sick as of late, and the doctors suspect it’s cancer, but they don’t quite know. The not knowing makes Eliza sick with worry for Peggy. Peggy is her younger sister and it would be devastating to lose her.

 

Peggy visits too when she can.

 

“I really thought you guys had reached your peak on the number of kids you were having,” Peggy says as she holds William, rocking him gently in their mother’s rocking chair.

 

“No way,” Angelica laughs, “I mean, my Philip is twenty-one and we’ve got another one on the way. I guess it runs in the family, having bunches of children.”

 

Peggy snorts in the most unladylike way possible.

 

Eliza smiles. She’s completely forgotten about that. Sometime after the Pamphlet had made its way out, Angelica and John had announced that they were expecting their seventh child. Even with little William around, Eliza felt a pang of jealousy for her sister. Angelica had her husband, even if they were separated by sea lines and thousands of miles and Alexander was right there. 

 

Eliza felt somewhat alone, even though she knew that Alexander was there, taking care of the children when her fatigue from her labor was too much to bear or putting William to bed with a story. 

 

She wonders if it’s because she didn’t allow him back into her life fully, not even her bed.

 

She begins to regret that.

 

. 

 

He’s writing again, fingers clattering away at his keyboard. It’s late, ten on a Wednesday night and all of the children are tucked safely into bed, even Philip. Eliza catches him, peeks into the doorway, watching him mutter curse words to himself about how shitty his writing is. 

 

Her heart softens at the sight of him. He’s disheveled, his hair in a messy ponytail, dark circles under his eyes. He runs himself into the ground nearly every day and she’s been too pissed off to notice that. Sure, she’s seen it once or twice, and she can’t help but wonder what he’s writing about, why his work is so erratic and why his keyboard clatters so much.

 

“Are you going to sleep soon?” She asks, looking into his office, on lit by his desk lamp. 

 

“Yeah.” He looks from his work and adjusts his glasses. “I’ve just got so much work to do.”

 

“On what?” 

 

He sighs. “Washington’s Farewell Address.”

 

Eliza gasps in surprise. She talked to Martha only a week ago and she didn’t mention anything about George’s plans to resign. “He’s resigning?”

 

“Yeah. He told me to write it for him because Madison tried, but he didn’t like it.” Alexander sighs, rubbing his temples because he can feel a headache coming.

 

“Does that mean you’re going to lose your job?” She asks, she’s thinking about the kids. She’s working for the orphanage still, but it’s not like volunteering once a week after you’ve been out because you had a baby makes so much money if any at all. 

 

“No, they’re gonna replace him with whoever wins the next election. We keep our jobs.”

 

Eliza nods, looking at her hands. He watches her, waits for her to say something or walk out. His eyes burn into her, she feels like he can see everything, all of her insecurities and all of the things that she smashes down in order to not face them. 

 

“What you did was stupid.” She says simply, leaning heavily against the doorframe for support.

 

“I know.”

 

“Ninety-five pages, eleven thousand words,” Her voice is cold and hard. “Longer than any letter you ever wrote me, surely.”

 

”I’m s—” He starts, but she interrupts abruptly.

 

”Don't.” she holds a finger up, looks at him with some sort of intent. ”I just wanna know why.”

 

Alexander huffs out a breath, ”She came to our door, it was raining, she told me that her husband was an asshole, said that he hit her, and I told her I’d walk her home. She only lived a block away and she… she brought me to her bed and… it was like my mind was playing tricks on me or something. I was gonna say no, leave,  but she… I probably should have said no. And I… I thought of you, the whole time. And when I went home, I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. But I went back. And then Reynolds emailed me, demanding money and I… saw her a few more times before I decided that it needed to end. So I walked away.” 

 

“You’re so fucking stupid, Alexander, God.” She sniffles, trying to conceal her tears the best she can. 

 

“I know.” He sighs, the gravity of his decisions hitting him all at once. “You every right to think that.”

 

“I mean, really, Alexander, you’re so fucking dumb.” 

 

He can’t deny it. So he doesn’t.

 

.

 

_Alexander sighs heavily into his pillow, absolutely exhausted. He’s home, finally for good. All went well in Yorktown, the city of Albany seemed to rejoice and he returned to the Schuyler Mansion to find_ a very pregnant _Eliza awaiting the birth of their first child._

_He watches her now as she prepares herself for bed, tying her hair into a neat ponytail and pulling one of his oversized t-shirts over her head. She lays down, pulling the blankets over her legs and flicking the lamp on her bedside table off._

_“You okay?” He asks after she has a bit of a struggle trying to get comfortable._

_“No. I’m a whale.” She sighs, gesturing to her stomach, her movement only illuminated by the moonlight pouring in through the open curtains and blinds._

_“You are not. Far from it, actually.” He kisses the side of her head, pressing a hand to her swollen stomach._

_“You’re just saying that because you married me and you don’t wanna hurt my feelings.” Something Alexander noted about her hormones: Eliza grew exasperated very quickly these days. She tended to act like that of a child when she was in these moods, dare he say that out loud, it would only be worse on her part._

_“No, I’m saying that because it’s true and I love you.”_

_“Sure.” She narrows her eyes, but she can’t help but smile when Alexander rubs her stomach and the baby kicks lightly at his hand._

_“I quite like you like this, too.” He smiles_ against _the back of her head._

_“Hmm, really?” She murmurs sleepily._

_“Yeah, you’re adorable, Betsey.”_

_She laughs softly to herself. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”_

.

 

The house is quiet and still until William cries out through the baby monitor. Eliza awakens with a start, looking to her bedside table and sighing when she hears the screaming coming from the monitor, turning it off and making her way down the hallway to William’s nursery.

 

She freezes at the soft glow of the lamp in William’s room and looks into the doorway. 

 

Alexander is standing by the crib, William on his shoulder as he reads over something, bouncing the baby lightly up and down. The memories of waking up to Philip’s babbling and walking into Alexander’s office to see him cradling his son in one are and pouring over a legal paper or textbook come flooding back to her. She smiles, keeping herself as quiet as possible, waiting for Alexander to notice her so she doesn’t have to interrupt.

 

His arm starts to grow numb from holding onto William with it for so long, so he shifts, switches arms, and turns slightly to see Eliza standing in the doorframe.

 

“Hey,” He murmurs timidly. “How long have you been standing there?”

 

“Ten minutes, he was crying and I came in here to get him, but I think you’ve got it under control.” She directs a small smile toward him and his heart skips a few beats. 

 

“I was awake. I thought I’d help out a bit.” He says, rubbing Will’s back and bouncing him just a bit more. “Plus, he’s so adorable when he’s not screaming his head off.”

 

“He looks like you, you know?” She says as she approaches them, taking little Will from him and relieving him of the baby’s weight in his arms. 

 

Alexander nods, taking a good look at his youngest son as he rests his head against Eliza’s shoulder. He smiles. “He does,” he laughs, unsure how he’s gone so long without really noticing it. “That’s a good thing, right?”

 

Eliza chuckles softly to herself. “Partly.”

 

Things are easier, the tension in the air is lighter, Eliza can feel it.

 

She invites him back into their bed the next night. He keeps a respectful distance, not wanting to make her uncomfortable with his presence in their bed in any way at all. He notices that actually sleeps pretty well for once with her by his side again.

 

.

 

_Alexander opens his eyes, awakening from a very deep and amazingly good sleep. He’d never slept so peacefully throughout the night. That never happened. It’s such a rare occurrence that he’d forgotten about how refreshing it is to wake up fully rested._

_He smiles softly against his pillow when he feels Eliza’s fingers tangling through his hair._

_“Good sleep?” She asks, sensing his alertness._

_He nods, flipping effortlessly onto his back and watching Eliza carefully as she places a chaste kiss to his lips._

_“Yeah,” He yawns, covering his mouth and looking at the ceiling. “How did that happen?”_

_“Well, you came home and I guess you were so tired that you passed out, I was helping Philip with his homework and Angie with her scales, but I came in here and you were sleeping like a baby. I couldn’t wake you.” Eliza explains, her voice soothing, probably enough to send him back to sleep._

_“Just when I forgot the stress of being a lawyer nowadays.” He sighs exaggeratedly, shifting and pulling the blankets back over his legs._

_Eliza chuckles softly. “Lucky for you, it’s Saturday, the firm is closed, Burr is with his wife and daughter, so you can be too.”_

_“Don’t forget Pip.” He adds, watching Eliza’s eyebrows rise in amusement._

_“Of course not.” She smiles, “I made breakfast while you were sleeping, wanna come down and eat with the kids and me?”_

_“Of course,” he sits up, following Eliza down the stairs and into the kitchen, enjoying this rare occurrence quite immensely._

.

 

Over the next week, when Alexander awakes, Eliza is never there. She’s always cooking breakfast for the kids or practicing scales with Angie while Angelica does the dishes, or even helping Junior with his complicated algebra lesson that he can’t seem to ace.

 

Everything feels quite normal again like their family had banded back together after being broken apart for so long. He loves it, he loves sitting at the table, listening to John as he proudly reads his bedtime storybooks out loud for everyone to hear, calling when Angie composed a perfect piece for them to hear, or beaming with pride when Philip tells him about the success with his early college applications.

 

“Anything new?” Alexander asks Angie as she sits at her grandparents’ antique, shiny black piano that had been gifted to her by them for her tenth birthday a few years ago.

 

“Yeah, I learned the  _Peanuts_  theme song! Wanna hear?” Angie asks she’s always been very enthusiastic about music. She’s very musically talented and Alexander thinks part of that stems from her interest in music in general and the way Eliza taught each of the children piano and French when they were all small. John is currently learning it with lots of frustration and William will he once he’s older.

 

Angie seems to be the only child that retained something other than the numbers one through ten in French from her mother’s lessons.

 

Angie carefully plays the notes, claiming that she hasn’t perfected it yet, but she’s working on it.

 

Eliza smiles, doting over their daughter’s impeccable piano skills.

 

When Alexander smiles, he looks between his wife and daughter, the pride showing in his face.

 

.

 

_“Un, deux, trios, quartre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf! Is that right?” Philip chants, looking up at his mother for affirmation._

_“Perfect, sweetheart,” Eliza nods, kissing Philip loving on the nose. “You didn’t miss one and you got them all in the right order. I’m so proud of you!”_

_Philip is tiny, six years old and very enthusiastic about the piano. Nearly every day after school, he sits with her on the stool and listens to her as she teaches him the keys. Angie is a little resistant when it comes to the piano, but Eliza knows that when she’s older, she's learned to at least tolerate it.  She always enjoys it when Eliza plays for her, she seems to have an interest in it._

_“Why don’t we do it again so you remember but with the piano this time?” Eliza asks, looking down at little Philip who nods, his curls bouncing. Eliza honestly has no idea where his curls came from, she’d probably say Angelica, but Angelica’s hair was never as insanely curly as Philip’s._

_Before they can begin, the door unlocks and Philip jumps up to greet his father._

_“Daddy!” Philip cries._

_Alexander smiles, setting his briefcase down on the ground and picking Philip up like he weighs absolutely nothing. “Hey Buddy, how was your day?”_

_“Good! Mommy taught me some stuff on the piano and I played blocks with Angie after her nap! It was very fun.” Philip says enthusiastically._

_Eliza laughs, walking over to Alexander and placing a kiss on his cheek in greeting._

 

_“Why don’t you show your father what you learned today, Philip?” Eliza suggests, watching Philip as he tries to get back down to his feet._

_Alexander kisses the little boy’s head and lets him down so he can run over to the piano._

_Philip stumbles on a few notes and makes a few mistakes in pronouncing the French words, but for the most part, he does well. Alexander applauds him and Eliza smiles, proud that he’d done the best he could._

_Philip ran to his father and jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly._

_“Good job, buddy,” Alexander says, beaming with nothing but pride._

 

_“Thanks, Papa.”_

 

.

 

Eliza knocks softly on Philip’s bedroom door. He’s been so busy lately with school and a multitude of other things. She misses the times when he was a little boy, so excited about his piano skills and his play dates with Theo.

 

“Phil, you there?” Eliza asks through the door.

 

“Yeah, Ma, one second.” He puts his homework away, Eliza opens the door.

 

“What were you doing?”

 

“Homework.”

 

“Everything okay?”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Philip, come on,” Eliza sighs, gently sitting on Junior’s bed, she looks at him with pleading eyes.

 

“It’s nothing, Ma, I’m fine, it just kind of been… hard around here lately.” He sighs, looking down at his lap.

 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? You can talk to me, you know that.” She urges, hopefully not pushing too far.

 

“You and dad, are you guys getting divorced or are you going to kick him out or something?” Philip asks, kind of afraid to hear her answer.

 

“No. That’s not happening. Why would you think that?”

 

“Just because of the way things have been. I was scared that he’d leave and I’d never see him again.” Philip admits.

 

Eliza’s heart drops to her stomach. She lunges forward and hugs her eldest child. “Your father may be the most impulsive man in this world but he would never leave us. He’s staying here. I’m staying here. Everything is going to be fine, I’ll make sure of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this chapter sucks toward the end. i wrote it after school and i had absolutely no muse. spring break is next week so you should see at least two new chapters over the next week depending on my schedule. i apologize for the wait, but i've had a lot going on with testing coming up and reading _Romeo & Juliet_ in english class has given me a lot of homework recently. i'm doing my best to update somewhat regularly. hope you enjoyed! if you did, leave kudos and give feedback in the comments!
> 
> check out my tumblr: schuylerrham  
>  
> 
>  


	4. chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eliza realizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i’m a bit behind on chapters right now, but don’t worry, i’m trying to work as fast as i can without making these chapters crappy. anyway, this chapter is mainly flashbacks. fun fact: my friend has the same birthday as john laurens and my birthday is the day after he died. please enjoy!

Eliza breathes deeply, looking up at the ceiling as she lays in the darkness of the bedroom she has allowed Alexander back into. The entire house is quiet, all of the kids are asleep, including little William who has not yet awoken to eat or have his diaper changed.

 

Alexander is silent as he lays at her side, waiting for her to say something, to ask him about the things he cannot bear to talk about now that he is back in their bed. He decides to speak against his better judgment.

 

“I love you.” His voice breaks cracks mid-sentence and he stares at her frozen figure beside him.

 

She swallows. “I know.”

 

He sighs, his fingers tense and are tempted to reach for hers. He feels rather bold tonight, he’s unsure why, so he reaches, runs his thumb over her knuckles. Her hand twitches softly in surprise, but it stays unmoving at her side as he wraps his fingers around hers.

 

Eliza glances at him, tearing her eyes away from the ceiling.

 

She doesn’t speak when he brings her knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly.

 

.

 

_Alexander stares across the ballroom at Eliza. He’d been attending another one of their balls, keeping a respectful distance from Eliza because her father’s watchful eye is intimidating._

_He feels rather out of place, in this fancy ballroom with crowds of guests and expensive wines and meals. The_ Schuylers _like_ extravagance _, their large home,_ and _fancy sports cars are no exception._

_Eliza catches his eyes, smiling from across the room and politely pushing past guests as she makes her way to his side of the room._

_“Didn’t think that you would make it,” She says with a smile, tugging softly at the lapels of his coat._

_“You know how Washington likes these parties, plus I couldn’t miss an opportunity to see you.” He kisses her hand, a soft giggle leaving her lips at the gesture. She loves it when he does that, it’s so polite of him as the young soldier he is._

_“What a chivalrous gentleman you are,” Eliza laughs delightedly, squeezing his hand._

_“I try,” He smiles handsomely. Philip Schuyler has turned to his wife for a moment, Alexander grabs Eliza’s other hand, holding firmly. “Wanna get out of here?”_

_Eliza nods, catching Angelica’s watchful eye from the side of the ballroom as she stands with their mother and her husband, Church. Angelica knows to keep quiet, smiles kindly at her sister and turns back to her husband, minding her own business. Eliza looks away and back at Alexander who smiles mischievously. Another delighted laugh bubbles in her chest._

_Alexander pulls her away, outside to the garden. The moonlight shines in the open area, the commotion of the party inside muffled by the walls. Alexander wraps his arms around her and enjoys her company, trying not to remind himself that he returns back to the encampment in Virginia tomorrow and that he won’t see her for God knows how long._

_“Letters aren’t enough, I wish I could see you in person every day.” Eliza sighs, wrapping her arms around his waist, her head against his chest._

_“You will. Once this war is over, we can get married and have a kid or eight kids, if that’s what you want. Whatever you want, Betsey.” He whispers into her hair, kissing the crown of her head softly._

_“Let’s get married then.” She suggests, looking up at him._

_Alexander’s jaw drops. “Betsey, you do know that I’m penniless, right? I mean look at this, would you really wanna leave a place like this to live in crappy two bedroom apartment with me? It’s not that glamorous, you know.”_

_“I could live in a box under a bridge and be happy if it meant I could live with you, Alexander. I don’t need it to be glamorous.” Eliza takes his hands, smiles sweetly at him,_ tilting _her head as she asks the question, “Will you marry me, Alexander?”_

_Alexander laughs helplessly, pouncing her with a hug, cradling her small form in his arms._

_“So is that a yes?”_

_“Of course I’ll marry you, Bets.”_

_._

 

Another night, another silent moment that Eliza dreads. Alexander lays beside her as usual, she looks at the ceiling again. Alexander makes no attempt to speak so she falls asleep before he does.

 

Alexander’s eyes stay open, he’s wide awake. A storm begins to rage out of nowhere, he can hear the crashing of the thunder and the flashes of lightning resound through the window. He trembles. Eliza is asleep. He wonders how she can sleep with such terror happening right outside their window. Right, she didn’t have to encounter the horrible distraction of her home like he did.

 

“Liza,” his voice shatters, his entire body shakes. “Eliza, please wake up.”

 

Eliza stirs, groans softly and shifts. It takes a minute for her body to awaken completely, for her surroundings to sink in completely, but when she does, she sees that Alexander is trembling with abject fear. It’s storming outside.

 

“Hey,” She murmurs softly like she has a thousand times over the last sixteen years. “What’s wrong?”

 

Alexander shakes his head, trying to block it all out. “Storm. Liza, help.” 

 

Eliza’s heart softens. She almost feels like she did when he’d come home from war when his mind was not quite recovered and he’d had horrid nightmares. She almost feels like her younger, pregnant self, hugging her husband tightly as he struggled with fear and regret and survivor’s guilt. The same was true for the letter he received from John’s father when Philip was seven months old. 

 

Alexander suffered in so many different aspects, it wasn’t until now that Eliza has examined them all, pieced them together. Between his father’s abandonment, his mother’s death, the hurricane, Laurens, the pain of the miscarriage she’d had two years ago, the Reynolds affair, he’d somehow overcome it all.

 

She kisses his temple softly, holding him tighter.

 

The storm outside doesn’t quiet until morning. He falls asleep in her embrace, soothed.

 

.

 

_“John’s dead.”_

_“I know.”_

_“He has a daughter, Betsey, I mean, what if I died and left you alone with Philip?” Alexander says grimly, staring longingly out the window. He traces the window pane, watching the beautiful August day deteriorate into a hot summer night, leaning his forehead against the cool glass._

_“Don’t talk like that,” Eliza pulls a face, drying a tear as it trickles. She has to be strong for Alexander, but John never hurt a soul, and if he did, it was in favor of defending his country. He was a good friend, a kind man that had a heart too big for this earth. He never had a chance. Yet, he didn’t deserve to go like this. “You are staying right here with Philip and I.”_

_Alexander huffs. “He’s dead, Eliza,”_

_“But you’re not. Don’t you see that this means you have to do something? You fought in the same war he fought in and you didn’t die. You have to do all the things he wanted to do. You have to be his voice because he’s dead and he doesn’t have one anymore.” Eliza asserts, Alexander’s mournful glance breaking her heart into two. She hates this. She hates that John is dead and that there’s nothing she can do or say to help the matter; if only she could bring John back._

_Alexander nods, embraces his dear wife, tears covering his face. Eliza breathes in his musky scent, comforting him in the very best way she can._

_John’s voice is lost. He’s dead and his voice has been lost. But that doesn’t mean that Alexander can’t be the one to speak for him._

.

 

Eliza is awoken the next morning when little John pounces on her, kissing her cheeks lovingly and asking her politely if she can make breakfast for him and the other kids. She laughs, picking her five-year-old son up and bringing him to the kitchen.

 

Alexander stays asleep at her side. He looks peaceful and Eliza is tentative to wake him up, so she doesn’t. 

 

“Mommy, why is daddy still sleeping? He never sleeps this late.” John says as Eliza carries him down the hallway.

 

“Daddy had a lot of work to do last night and he was really tired. Let him sleep, okay?” Eliza lies, she doesn’t want to tell John that his father had a couple of panic attacks last night because of the storm and only fell asleep around three, tears still decorating his cheeks. “What do you want for breakfast?”

 

“Pancakes!” The little boy exclaims, giggling happily and throwing his arms up in the air.

 

.

 

_Philip is wailing. It’s storming outside and Philip is screaming and wriggling in his crib._

_Eliza figures that the fear of storms must be hereditary._

_She shifts, fixes her nightgown and gets to her feet. She sighs, too tired to comprehend anything except that Philip is crying and it’s most likely because of the storm. Alexander pulls her back, tugging softly at her arm, telling her that she should rest and that he’s got it. It’s his problem after all. Eliza protests, but Alexander insists._

_The hallway is dark, and the storm outside is raging, but Philip is still screaming. It hurts Alexander that he’s done this, that since a hurricane destroyed Nevis and traumatized him, little Philip has to suffer. He’s not sure why Philip is so afraid, maybe because of the thunder or because he doesn’t want to be alone. Alexander can relate to both._

_He approaches the nursery, calmed by the faint light of Philip’s nightlight that Eliza makes sure to plug in every night.  He walks over to the crib and smiles comfortingly at the baby, but it comes off a little shaky because he’s just as scared as Philip is._

_“Hey there, Pip,” He says softly as he lifts his son into his arms, petting the wispy black curls at the top of his head and kissing his forehead softly in the way he remembers Eliza doing with him when he’s scared. “It’s gonna be okay, you know, it’s just a storm. They happen all the time. You don’t have to worry because I’m gonna protect you. I always will. I love you, Pip, to the moon and back.” _

_Philip calms and gurgles softly, babbling incoherently as he rests his head on his father’s chest, falling asleep again. Alexander kisses his son’s head, laying him back down in his crib gently and allowing him to sleep now that all is okay again._

_He takes a breath, ready to fall asleep in Eliza’s arms yet again._

_Eliza smiles, having heard the entire interaction through the baby monitor sitting on her nightstand. Alexander is the best father. She knew he would be._

.

 

A week later, Eliza keeps a close eye on Alexander. He writes and writes until he finishes Washington’s Farewell Address, and then he writes more. She doesn’t know what he’s writing. Certainly, it’s something important.

 

Peggy’s health declines, Angelica’s visits become less frequent in favor of making Peggy comfortable. 

 

Eliza doesn’t mind. She’s perfectly capable of taking care of her children, though Angelica’s help was nice. 

 

She worries about Philip more now, but she knows that he’s independent, he always has been, so she doesn’t try and question him. 

 

Alexander is never absent. He’s always interacting with the kids, helping them with their homework and humming along enthusiastically when Angie plays the piano for them. John still reads every night and Alexander couldn’t be more proud. He practically beams with pride now. All of the children are amazing, and it’s all he can talk about when they go to bed at night. He just loves how they are all doing things they love, it really does make him feel quite good, like he’s done something good for once in his life. 

 

Eliza can feel the holes that were once there begin to get filled.

 

.

 

He tells her he loves her again, but this time, he whispers it softly into her ear. Eliza tries to tell herself that this is a bad idea, that he doesn’t derserve his place in the their bed, he doesn’t deserve her love or her affection.

 

But she can’t find it in herself to do it. She feels different than she has in the past few months, she feels alive, like she had been going through the motions for so long and now she’s in control. 

 

It’s because she loves him too. No matter how hard she tries to ignore it, she loves him too. She wouldn’t be here, in their house, their bed, with all of their children, now if she didn’t love him. She smiles, pulls him closer, but doesn’t say anything. 

 

Tentatively, he kisses the spot behind her ear, whispering frequent and soft declarations of his love for her and her beauty. She never protests, she doesn’t want to. She wants him more than her brain can process, more than she can express. She wants all of him. His incredible mind, his inability to shut up, his lithe body, his love, his stupidly crooked smile, absolutely  _everything_.

 

Everything Maria Reynolds was unable to attain.

 

She hates to remind herself, but it’s apart of their story.  _She_ is apart of their story, more so his than hers, but still. Her name cannot be erased, it is written in permanent ink.

 

He kisses her now, full and passionate, still tentative, yet tender. 

 

He tells her he loves her again, whispering against her lips with a smile. She kisses him back, gripping his hair, tugging slightly. 

 

“Eliza.” He whispers her name, kissing her neck, her collarbone. He needs her. He needs her because she’s the reason he’s here. She’s the reason he’s the person he is now.

 

He loves her, and she’s scared to admit that she loves him too. 

 

.

 

_Philip is a gorgeous little boy, Alexander had swooned over him, rocking him and just taking it all in. He’s more proud of Eliza than he can even comprehend, really. It’s amazes him that they created something as tiny and perfect as Philip._

_Eliza sleeps, worn out from her horrifically long labor. She glows, Alexander can see it, and he’s not sure if it’s his eyes playing tricks of him or the sun shining through the window as it rises._

_Philip gurgles softly, cooing at his father._

_Alexander’s heart melts. He loves his son, and it’s hard for him to look back now and comprehend why his father left. The feeling of holding Philip for the first time, watching Eliza’s tired yet joyful smile as he cut Philip’s umbilical cord and got his first glimpse of the baby that had been hiding inside of Eliza for nine months. His eyes sting with tears, but he doesn’t want to cry about that. Not now, not when Philip is sitting in his lap and looking up at him with his large, innocent brown eyes._

_He sighs, restrains his tears and kisses his son’s forehead._

_“You okay?” Eliza murmurs softly, only just awakening and getting used to the slight ache that resonates in her body._

_“Just fine, Bets, how about you?” He smiles up at her, cradling Philip to his chest._

_“Tired, a little achy, but happy. Very happy.” She whispers softly, focusing her eyes on the bundle on her husband’s arms, smiling softly at her child._

_“Good.” Alexander smiles, gently stroking her cheek. “He’s beautiful, Betsey, so much more than I could have ever asked for.”_

_“I’m glad,” She touches their son’s cheek, smiling immaculately. “Just like his dad.”_

_Alexander chuckles. “His nose is all you, Betsey,”_

_“Oh please, he has your eyes.” Eliza insists, staring down at their baby’s perfect little face._

_“You and I are going to have a lot of fun raising this little guy, hm?” Alexander asks, winding his fingers through the gaps in hers._

_“Totally.” Her lips brush his knuckles, never tearing her eyes away from little Philip._

_She’s happier than she could have ever imagined._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, thanks about all i have for now. this chapter was very hard to write, it’s really not my favorite, but I hope that you enjoyed it! over the next week, i’ll be updating as frequently as i can, certainly not every day, but whenever i have a free moment. i have some one-shots i’m working on, and i’m taking fic requests and questions on my tumblr! i’m only taking requests for hamliza fics right now. also, i hope you all had a happy easter! leave your thoughts on this chapter below and don’t forget to leave kudos if you enjoyed! i really do enjoy getting comments! 
> 
> check out my tumblr: schuylerrham


	5. chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was stuck on this chapter for a while so that's why it's kinda late. my apologies, but please enjoy!

_Angelica peaks into her sister’s childhood bedroom, looking around at the pink room, littered with stuffed animals and that stupidly pretentious bedspread Eliza had picked out when she was thirteen. Old posters covered the walls, Eliza’s old interests, and celebrity crushes. Angelica swore she’d never_ understand _at the time, and she still doesn’t._

 

_“Are you ready? Everyone’s waiting!” Angelica says, watching her sister as she sits at the vanity, toying with her hair and checking her makeup frequently._

 

_Eliza sighs, her stomach churning. “I don’t know, Ang, this is a big thing,” she swallows nervously, “what if I mess up?”_

 

_“Mess what up?” Angelica asks gently, closing the door and sitting on the bed._

 

_“I mean, what if Alexander decides that marriage isn’t for him or if it doesn’t work out? What am I going to do then?” Eliza trembles as Angelica cards a piece of her straight brown hair behind her ear._

 

_“Oh please, Alexander loves you so much! Probably more than he loves that Laurens of his, hm?” Angelica asks, her voice firm yet comforting. Eliza can never figure out how Angelica is so firm yet kind. “And I know you, Eliza, if you didn’t want to marry him, we wouldn’t be here right now. And who’s to say it won’t work out? You just have to try and I think if you put your best foot forward, it’ll work. It will.”_

 

_Eliza smiles, pulling her sister into a tight hug, trying not to burst into excited tears at the thought of finally marrying her Alexander. She can’t believe that her father had approved of it and that it was happening. Her mother has stressed so much about decorating the house for the event and her dress and all of the other silly things that brides stress about, except for the fact that she was not the one getting married._

 

_Eliza decides that all will be fine, walking downstairs with her sister, allowing her to resume her place as the maid of honor up at the altar with Peggy. Philip Schuyler walks his middle daughter down the aisle, and Eliza knows at once that today will be the best day of her life, no doubt about it._

 

.

 

“Did you burn them?” Alexander asks one night amidst their dark bedroom, their bodies close, but not touching.

 

Eliza sighs, a long withdrawn breath from her lungs. “The letters?”

 

Alexander nods.

 

“Some of them.” She says slowly, watching Alexander’s face sink, tears springing to his eyes. “I just… I was so angry.”

 

He nods again, keeping his hands at his sides. He doesn’t blame her. He really can’t, blaming her would be like moralizing what he did to her. He can’t help but understand. She was angry and heartbroken and her immediate reaction was to erase him, to burn the words he’d written to her ages ago when they were apart, before responsibilities like children and jobs as lawyers and politicians arose. 

 

What he would give to be young again, to write to Eliza, to tell her everything he wants to tell her because his voice always comes across better on paper. 

 

“I just wanted to pretend I never… loved you. Pretend that I wasn’t the person who had to be burdened by the Pamphlet or her.” Her voice is steady with a slight pause and a painful choke on the last word she speaks. 

 

Alexander closes his eyes, the shame of all of the things he’d done washing over him all at once, 

 

He nods. He understands, as fucked up and twisted as it seems, he understands. 

 

Eliza stares, waiting for him to say something, anything at all, she doesn’t care. 

 

“I love you.” He says it again, his voice gentler than ever, careful not to upset her.

 

A tear slips from her eye and Alexander inhales.

 

“I love you too, I do, I’m just…” She trails off, the pain encroaching on her. “hurt.”

 

He knots their fingers together, closes his eyes and breathes slowly, watching Eliza as she wipes away a tear, composing herself once more.

 

The doubtful part of him tells him that nothing will ever be the same, even when Eliza heals fully and forgives him. It can’t be the same, not after. Alexander blames himself and himself only.

 

.

 

_Philip comes home after an extended stay in the hospital because he’s a colicky baby. Eliza jitters nervously on the car ride home, afraid of what’s to come next. She can hardly believe that she’s someone’s mother, she’s responsible for a life so much smaller than hers._

 

_She sits in the back seat with Philip while Alexander drives, cooing over her son’s first car ride, absolutely enamored by this tiny baby that she’d anticipated the arrival of for so long._

 

_“You okay back there?” Alexander asks, adjusting the rear-view mirror slightly so he can look at Eliza and their little son._

 

_“Yeah, just a bit nervous.” Eliza smiles softly, tucking a baby blanket over Philip’s tiny legs, kissing the baby’s forehead._

 

_Alexander chuckles. “You’ll do great, Liza, it’s me you should worry about.”_

 

_“Says the one who held him for so long his arm went numb,” Eliza says matter-of-factly, laughing softly when Philip gurgles as if agreeing with his mother._

 

_“That’s because I wanted him to be well acquainted with me, you’re a natural, he’ll get used to you immediately. He probably already is for all I know.” Alexander sighs, watching Eliza’s expression shift._

 

_“Alexander, you’re going to be amazing, I already know it. You know how I hate it when you doubt yourself.” Eliza says reassuringly. It’s then that Alexander remembers why she’s the best wife and mother imaginable, she’s patient, kind, loving, and just the sweetest person he’s ever met. He can’t quite believe that she loves him or that she even tolerates him. He smiles softly._

 

_“I know, I’m sorry, Bets, I’m just scared.”_

 

_“I am too. But Philip won’t bite, I promise, though he might slobber on you.” She counters, a giggle rising in her throat._

 

_“I love you, Liza, and Pip too.”_

 

_“We love you too. So much.”_

 

_Alexander decides that he’s content with the way his life is unfolding. Philip and Eliza are definitely the reasons for that._

 

.

 

The kids are all asleep, though Eliza’s quite sure that Philip is still up doing his homework, but she doesn’t mind as long as he goes to sleep at some point.

 

Alexander vacated his office in favor of the living room as Eliza clears away the mess from dinner, keen to make it up to bed before William needs her. The house is quiet, Alexander kind of hates it. He hates the quiet, he hates feeling of being isolated in silence, he figures that that’s one of the reasons he and Eliza have six children. 

 

He sighs and shuts his laptop, staring idly at Eliza as she bustles around the kitchen. He reminds himself, for the thousandth time, why he married her. She’s amazing. His children couldn’t have a better mother than her. She cares about them all so much and she loves them all unconditionally. Her six little miracles as she likes to put it.

 

“Are you coming up to sleep?” Eliza asks out of the blue. Alexander startles, so entranced by his own thoughts that he hadn’t realized Eliza had finished her duties in the kitchen. 

 

“Yes. Just a moment.” He half smiles, his lips turning up ever so slightly.

 

Eliza nods her head a bit, going to turn around and walk up the stairs to the bedroom, but he grabs her arm, holding her back. “Did you need something?” She asks, turning to him, his hand enclosed around her wrist.

 

“Just…” he shakes his head, brushes whatever it was he was going to say aside. He doesn’t blink, he doesn’t breathe or even think before he seizes Eliza toward him and presses his lips to hers.

 

Sure, they’ve kissed before, more times than Eliza can count, a few times more recently, but those were nowhere near as hungry and ardent as this one. Eliza nearly gasps in surprise, only to be interrupted by their lips colliding.

 

She cups his cheeks as she regains her balance, moving a hand to the back of his head, gripping onto the long strands of dark brown hair there. Alexander tries with everything he has to control himself, to be gentle with Eliza. She’s fragile right now, practically anything he says or does could land him right back where he started, sleeping in his office.

 

Eliza gasps softly when she pulls her face away from his, looking into his eyes, regaining her senses. Tears rise in her eyes and they sting horribly.

 

“I’m sorry, I—” Alexander wants to apologize, he didn’t want to hurt, he never has. 

 

“No.” She strokes his cheek lightly with the pad of her thumb, a tear making its way down her right cheek, a sentiment of all the pain and suffering she’s been through since the Pamphlet was published.

 

He breathes deeply, regretting it all.

 

“C-can you sleep in your office tonight, I just… I need some space right now?” She asks, her tone unsure.

 

He nods, pulling away as painlessly as he can allow himself to and smiling softly at her.

 

He lays awake that night and wonders if he crossed a boundary.

 

.

 

“Are you all right, Liza?” Angelica asks a few days later as they stand in the kitchen, Eliza preparing a meal for their parents who have come down from Albany to see all of their grandchildren. The house is full of children, all six of Eliza’s children, Angelica’s six children, and Peggy’s three boys.

 

Eliza is rather overwhelmed.

 

“No. I’m just really stressed, you know, with everyone here.” Eliza lies, watching as Angie and her cousin, Kitty, talk and the two Philips joke back and forth among themselves.

 

“I know you very well, my sister, I can tell that’s not what’s upsetting you.”

 

Eliza sighs, noting that she should have known better than to lie to Angelica.

 

“Alexander kissed me.” 

 

Angelica pauses. “How?”

 

“I don’t know. It wasn’t a normal kiss, he was… he seemed different and it frightened me.” Eliza explains.

 

“Did he say anything after?” 

 

“No, but I asked him if he could sleep in his office again, give me some space.” 

 

Angelica sighs, pulling her sister into a tight embrace, trying her absolute best to comfort her sister. “Liza?”

 

“Yeah, Ang?”

 

“Do you still love him?” 

 

“Yes, of course I do. It’s just hard.” 

 

“I know. But I’m always here if you need to talk.”

 

.

 

_“Alexander?” Eliza murmurs her voice heavy with remnants of sleep. The hallway is dark, and from the fuzzy glance Eliza got in at the clock, it’s nearly three in the morning. She’s clearly exhausted, only getting in about two hours of sleep prior because their little one was being rather antsy and wriggling around at every possible moment._

 

_Alexander looks away from the paper, cringing inwardly at how scrawled and horrible his handwriting looks because of his lack of sleep and the current hour, but the work for this case has to be done. “Betsey, you should be sleeping.” He whispers to her, careful of his volume because Philip is asleep in the next room over and he hates to be woken up before he’s ready. He hates to know that he's already woken Eliza, especially because she's heavily pregnant and worn out, but he needs for this work to be done._

 

_“So should you,” She murmurs again, standing behind his chair, placing her hands on his chest, leaning over his shoulder._

 

_“I know, just some important stuff for work. Burr will have my neck if I don’t have this done soon.” Alexander insists, enclosing his hand around her own, kissing the delicate frame of her hand._

_Eliza takes a breath, tenderly rubbing her husband's shoulder and scowling as the baby within her kicks again, disrupting any kind of comfort Eliza had found while standing there with her husband. "I can't sleep, your daughter won't let up on me."_

_"Five minutes? I just have a little bit left to do then I can come back to bed. I promise." His voice is quiet, he's as exhausted as Eliza is, it's quite evident by the dark circles under his eyes and the lazy scrawl of his usually very neat handwriting._

_"Alexander, please," Eliza pleads carefully._

_Alexander sighs in defeat, and suddenly the unfinished work sitting in front of him on his desk isn't as important as Eliza. It actually sounds quite nice to get to go back to bed with her and rest for once. He stands, switches his desk lamp off and stands, taking his Eliza's hand and leading her back to their bedroom. He falls asleep much faster than anticipated, Eliza curling against his side and falling asleep as well._

_._

 

The days after are awkward. Eliza avoids Alexander. She tries as hard as she can to focus on the kids with all they have going on right now. Jamie has a soccer game on Thursday night, Angie has a piano recital she's been practicing for so long now. 

 

The kids all disperse after dinner, John, being the sweet little boy he is, kisses his mother's cheek and thanks her for dinner. Eliza smiles, hugs her little boy and tells him to go off and play with his brothers.

 

She catches Alexander staring again.

 

"Are you okay?" She asks boldly as he sits at the dining table, having torn himself away from his work to enjoy dinner with the kids.

 

"Fine," He smiles gently at her. "I wanted to apologize, you know about a few days ago. I didn't mean to scare you, Betsey." 

 

"Look," She sighs, her expression shifting as she sits across from him at the table. 

 

His heart stops, he's scared again. Scared that she'll say she's done.

 

"I'm not mad at you, I just," She sighs softly, reaching across the table for his hands, entwining their fingers. She takes a long pause, collecting her thoughts."I miss us. I miss us before."

 

"I do too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it! tell me how you feel about this chapter in the comments and leave kudos if you liked it! bye!
> 
> check me out on tumblr: schuylerrham


	6. chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alexander remembers things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so school is back after a break and then next week i have testing :( so i might not get to write very much at that time. i want to get this chapter out as soon as i can to hold you over until testing is over and i'm not so busy. i finished way earlier than i anticipated so here’s another back to back update! i was very inspired while writing this chapter so i’m very happy with it! enjoy! also, sorry for any mistakes, i typed this very fast.

William is nearly six months old. He says his first word one busy morning when all of his siblings are rushing around, getting ready for school. He beats his little fists on the tray of his high chair and says “Mama!” Eliza doesn’t cry as she thought she would, instead she smiles gleefully and scoops the little boy up into her arms, kissing his forehead and asking if he can say it again. He complies enthusiastically and Eliza chuckles, delighted.

 

Alexander cries. He cries about everything. He cried buckets of joyful tears at their wedding, sobbed happily into her neck when she first told him she was pregnant with Philip, cried even more when he was born, and, of course, cried when Philip said “Papa” for the first time. 

 

Angelica likes to tease that he’s a crybaby, having been around for most of the milestones that had caused him so many tears of joy. Eliza has to agree, happily so. He’s so enthusiastic about their children and all of the important things. He loves them, more than he can put into words. 

 

“I’m so proud of you, Will!” Alexander says after he’s recovered from the few tears trickling down his cheeks, taking the baby from Eliza and holding on tightly. “Can you say, Papa?”

 

William giggles, swatting softly at his father’s face, gurgling, and babbling.

 

“Don’t push it, he only just said his first word,” Eliza warns, smiling immaculately. Alexander tries not to stare, but her smile is so beautiful and he can feel the joy and love overflow in his heart.

 

“Mom! Junior spilled milk all over the counter!” Angie yells, interrupting.

 

“No I didn’t! You did! You knocked the carton over!” Junior argues.

 

“Oh please!” Angie says, rolling her eyes.

 

“Okay, okay, none of that, Junior, get the paper towels and hand your sister one. You do one half, she’ll do the other.” Eliza reasons, both kids groan helplessly but comply with her instructions.

 

Alexander smiles, adjusting his glasses on his nose, sitting Will back in his high chair and kissing that baby’s head. He catches Eliza’s eyes before he turns around and walks back to his office. 

 

.

 

He writes more. With Washington gone and John Adams now in office, he doesn’t really enjoy his job as much. Adams is a pompous asshole, and frankly, he’s not very enthusiastic about being his Secretary of Treasury until the rest of Washington’s term is filled out. He doesn’t do things for work, he figures that if Adams actually wants to get stuff done in the government, then he should be in the Capital instead of Massachusetts.

 

He writes drafts of things he’s sure he’ll never finish, recollects on some of the letters he wrote Eliza, ones he’s sure are nothing less than ash by now. He forgets his laptop, decides that since the stupid clattering of his keyboard always gives him a headache, he’ll write on paper instead.

 

Distant memories all flood back to him as he writes, things that he tries not to recall all too often for his own good.

 

The war, the gore and death and the way he’d always lay awake at night at gaze at the stars, knowing that Eliza was looking at the same sky. There were things about the war that he’d like to forget, but things that he finds as good, fond memories. Like the nights that him, Lafayette, Laurens, and Mulligan would all talk while lying in their cots.

 

Lafayette always mused about his wife Adrienne, better spoken in French than in English. He found it quite funny how Lafayette could be the way he was—so loud and outspoken—but yet so soft and tender go his beloved.

 

And then Betsey, seeing her again after all those months apart, crying into the crook of her neck because she’d grown out so much since the last time he’d seen her before Yorktown.

 

And Laurens. 

 

He’s still somber about it, he hates to talk about it. He hates to bring it up, to know full and well that John, that kind, warm-hearted man who died doing something he believed in.

 

But Philip. Philip was so tiny and so flushed when he was first born. He weighed six pounds, four ounces and curled his tiny fist around Alexander’s thumb when he held him for the first time. The memory of his birth is still so vivid in his mind, all of Eliza’s horrific pain, the way she’d clench his hand so tightly when the contraction tore through her, and the way she sobbed when Philip came out, in joyful hysterics, so happy to finally meet their son.

 

He gets lost in his writing after so long, unsure if what he’s written is even sensible or comprehensive at all. But he doesn’t care. He finds himself unable to care about what he’s written for the first time in his life, reading over it with a lenient eye, not bothered to fix any mistakes.

 

He feels like a weight has been lifted, though, like he can finally breathe after so long being restricted.

 

He smiles, his head bowed and the paper catching his tears as they fall.

 

.

 

Another run in in the kitchen is enough to break Eliza. She’s been so patient and quiet ever since they kissed, trying to figure it all out, to know what’s so different about him.

 

And it clicks when she stares at him now. 

 

She can see that he’s scared, frightened that she might leave or decide that she’s had enough. Sixteen years of marriage and she’s always been able to read him, to know his emotions and name them before he himself even can.

 

“You know… I wouldn’t mind if you come in slept in our room again.” She blurts, standing across from him at the kitchen counter as he sorts papers for work. She clutched the counter in anticipation of a response, biting down harshly on her lower lip.

 

He looks up, surprise emanating his features. “If that’s what you want, I’d be happy to—“

 

“Don’t make it sound weird, okay? You’re my husband and I’m your wife. We’ve been married for sixteen years. It’s not some weird business arrangement. It’s our bed.” She explains, he shifts, smiles knowingly at her.

 

“Okay. See you tonight then.”

 

“You’re making it weird again.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

.

 

_“Is everything all right?” Alexander asks eagerly._

 

_Eliza shakes her head yes, clutching the arm of the chair she’s sitting in. “Fine, just some pain, I’m sure it’ll go away.”_

 

_He cringes, reluctantly returning to his work when Eliza tells him that he shouldn’t worry for the fifth time, rubbing her belly. The living room is positively silent except for the scratching of Alexander’s pen against the paper. His law is growing nicely, Burr is one of his partners and they’re learned to tolerate one another, mainly because Burr’s wife, Theodosia, and Eliza are good friends and little Philip loves Theo Jr._

 

_Eliza huffs again, more pain surging through her body, reminding her of why she hates the third trimester of pregnancy with the horrible aches and pains and the fatigue. She always tells herself, even though this is only her second pregnancy, that it’s all worth it. She’s very much looking forward to seeing her daughter’s face for the first time and getting to hold her and dress her and feed and just love her. She feels like she did in the weeks leading up to Philip’s birth, nervous and very, very anxious._

 

_She adjusts her position on the armchair as more pain approaches her, hesitant to blame Alexander for it. He did get her pregnant after all. Twice now._

 

_She watches the clock and stands up when she sees it’s time to wake Philip from his nap so he can have a snack before dinner, which is a few hours away._

 

_Philip comes running out of his room in footie pajamas once Eliza wakes him up, giggling and bouncing delightedly as he approaches his dad on the couch._

 

_“Hi, Papa!” He says enthusiastically in his high pitched little voice._

 

_“Hey Pip,” Alexander smiles, ruffling his son’s curls. “Wanna sit with me, buddy?”_

 

_“Yeah!” Philip grins excitedly, throwing his hands up and jumping onto the sofa, snuggling into his father’s side comfortably. “What are you writing, Papa? Is it a letter for Mommy?”_

 

_“Well, no,” He says to his son, watching Eliza’s grin grow on her face as she rubs her belly in slow circles, probably because the baby is kicking at her mercilessly again. “It’s stuff for work.”_

 

_“What do you do for work, Papa?” Philip asks with growing curiosity._

 

_“I’m a lawyer. I defend people in court.”_

 

_Philip wrinkles his nose, indicating he doesn't know what that means._

 

_Alexander opens his mouth to respond before Eliza gasps softly, interrupting his train of thought._

 

_“My water broke.” She says simply. Alexander rushes to her side, helping her up._

 

_“Well, Pip looks like your baby sister’s coming today,” Alexander says to his two-year-old. “You get to spend some time with Auntie Angelica, how’s that sound?”_

 

_Philip has been so excited about the idea of having his own little sibling ever since his parents had told him that his mama was expecting another baby in addition to him. He can’t wait to teach her things and to hug her and be the best big brother he can. He’s always been jealous of his cousin, whom he called Phil because he was also Philip, and his little sister Kitty. He wanted someone to play with that also lived in the same house as him. “What about sissy? I wanna see sissy!”_

 

_Eliza takes a deep breath, calming down long enough to smile softly at her son. “You will, I promise, Pip. How about you ask Auntie Angelica to take you for ice cream? I’m sure she’ll love to do that with you.” Eliza suggests, watching Philip jump for joy._

 

_“Yay! Ice cream!” He smiles, the gaps in his teeth very visible._

 

_“You sit down, I’ll call Angelica and Peggy and your parents and we’ll get you to the hospital,” Alexander assures, calmer than he had been before Philip was born. He kisses her forehead, sitting her back down and going to call Angelica and also retrieve her hospital bag._

 

_Eliza’s jitters only get worse, she’s so excited to meet her little girl._

 

.

 

Theodosia Burr waits anxiously at the front of the schoolyard for Philip. He’d promised that he’d walk her home, and she’d accepted because Philip is her best friend. She loves him, loves talking with him and staring into his deep brown eyes as they converse over whatever it is troubling them.

 

Her breath hitches in her throat when he approaches and she smiles instantaneously. 

 

“Hey, Theo,” He greets politely, kissing her cheek and pulling her into a loose hug.

 

“Hey, what took you so long?” She asks curiously as they begin walking down the sidewalk, their steps oddly in sync.

 

“Hallway traffic. People get fucking insane when class is let out.” Philip counters, laughing softly.

 

Theo smiles. “You know, I, uh, have some math homework I need some help with tonight, would you be willing to be my study buddy?” 

 

“Sure, but does this include crawling through your window again? Because remember how last time I almost fell and broke my arm?” Philip asks, showing Theodosia when she recalls the incident just last week, chuckling fondly.

 

“No. I mean, as long as you arrive at like five and we tell my dad that it’s studying, everything should be fine. You know how my dad is about curfew and making sure I maintain my grades.” Theo sighs, tilting her head slightly.

 

“God, how did our dads ever run a law firm together, much less win any cases?” Philip joked lightheartedly.

 

“No idea, but I have my theories.” Theo blushes as they approach her house, Philip escorting her up the driveway.

 

“See you at five?” He asks as she stands near the door, her hand on the knob.

 

“Yup. See you then!” 

 

Philip smiles and walks off. Theo blushes so hard she has to fan herself profusely once she’s inside. She seriously questions what the hell one Philip Hamilton is doing to her. 

 

.

 

Eliza does embroidery as a pass time, outing her utmost effort in a baby blanket that she’s embroidering as a gift to Angelica for her newest baby’s arrival. It’s not for a matter of months, but Eliza likes to get a head start. She remembers embroidering baby blankets and clothes for her win children well before they were born, once attempting to teach Alexander her favorite hobby.

 

She can’t help but laugh when she recalls how he’d poked himself with the needle more times that her brain could register, and his questionable skill. She remembers telling him that he should stick to doing what he does best, writing and practicing law. He agreed though she could tell his ego was pretty badly bruised.

 

They work in close proximity of each other, Eliza lounging with her embroidery on the couch and Alexander typing away at his laptop’s keyboard in the armchair. Their house hasn’t really changed so much since they moved in sometime after Philip was born, but Eliza still likes it, the decor and overall aesthetic of the house are what she had wanted from the beginning and still adores very much. Six children had certainly worn the house down a bit, between the buckets of toys that Eliza stored underneath the couch and the bookshelf that had at one point been full of law textbooks and other intelligible books Alexander had collected over the years became full of bedtime stories and children’s books that the kids all enjoyed. John liked that he has a selection since he learned how to read, squealing with excitement at the books upon books he found on the shelf. 

 

Eliza won’t have it any other way, that’s for sure. She loves the house the way it is, with all of their children and the many things that have come along with them.

 

.

 

_“These are cute, hm? Angie knitted them for the baby.” Eliza says, holding up and a little pair of socks in a deep blue color, a sentiment of Angelica’s new talent for knitting, which she picked up from her British husband’s hometown of Lowestoft in the United Kingdom when she has visited._

 

_“Very cute. Hopefully, they’ll keep his little feet warm.” Alexander smiles, watching his beautiful radiant and glowing pregnant wife sort through the abundance of baby clothes she’d been gifted by relatives. It amazes him how they didn’t even have a baby shower and already had well over a hundred pieces of clothing for their little one. The due date is approaching rapidly and Eliza’s doctors are confident that he’ll be a bit earlier than originally thought._

 

_Alexander has been on his toes all week, really, anxious that Eliza is going to go into labor at any moment._

 

_“What about this?” She asks, holding up little sailor’s outfit, gifted to her by her aunt Gertrude._

 

_“Adorable.” He says with a smile, kissing her cheek._

 

_Eliza breathes deeply, steadying her emotions. “Gosh, I don’t know how it’s possible to have all of this stuff and still feel unprepared.” She complains, rubbing her belly and staring at it rather apprehensively._

 

_“Hey, don’t stress yourself out. Everything will be fine, I promise. We have everything we could possibly need, thanks to your family and your parents especially. We’re prepared.” He kisses her hand soothingly, brushing some hair away from her face._

 

_“I can’t wait to meet him.” Eliza muses, placing Alexander’s hand over hers on her belly. Their baby kicks at their hands. “ I wonder if he looks more like you or me.”_

 

_“Hopefully you, Bets, you’re so beautiful I can’t imagine how gorgeous our son would be if he looked like you.” He insists tenderly, a blush rising on Eliza’s cheeks._

 

_“Nonsense,” She murmurs, tracing the lines on his palm softly. “He’s gonna be charming and handsome just like you, my love.”_

 

_“Whatever you say, Betsey.” He threads his fingers through hers, kissing her knuckles over and over again. “Feeling better about everything now?”_

 

_“Much better.” She grins gorgeously, making Alexander’s heart melt at the sight of his beautiful, amazing wife._

 

_He absolutely can’t wait to meet their little son._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this in three hours, this is a new record for me omg! i made it longer because i feel like i’ve been lacking so i hope you enjoyed this nice, very descriptive chapter. this is probably going to be up early so yay! tell me how you feel about this chapter in the comments and leave kudos if you enjoyed! my motivation to write is driven by my commenters! 
> 
> check out my tumblr: schuylerrham


	7. chapter seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nothing has changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long to get this out! i’m kind of stuck and have been working on other things, one-shots and such. testing starts soon, but i promise i’ll establish a clear schedule for the updating of this fic and i have some one-shots i’m still working on. i’m taking requests on tumblr if you’re interested! something i want to clarify, angelica was married with two children most likely at the time of helpless/satisfied, and she probably loved her husband, john church, because they eloped against philip schuyler’s permission. just something that wasn’t in the musical, enjoy!

Alexander vents. He and Eliza lay together in their bed, so close their shoulder blades touching. Eliza ignores it, listening to him as he rants, calling John Adams every name in the book. Eliza finds herself glad that the children are asleep, unable to hear the foul words coming from their father’s mouth.

  


“I mean, what kind of president spends more time in Massachusetts than in Washington D.C.?” He rolls his eyes, his face flaming with anger just from merely thinking about Adams. 

  


And to think she’d almost forgot how hot-headed he was when it came to politics. It’s like flip switches in his brain. He can argue and argue about anything, politics or not, really, and he’d turn red in the face, fighting until he was the clear winner.

  


He’s only ever like that at work, politics are what get him the most heated.

  


She chuckles, unbeknownst to Alexander as his rant continues, drags out into this long string of words that Eliza can no longer decipher. All she hears is a stream of words coming from his mouth. Suddenly, he’s talking about Jefferson and Madison and how much he hates them, complaining because he’d much rather have Washington back in office instead of that incompetent idiot. He doesn’t even say his name anymore, assuming that Eliza will understand.

  


She hums softly when he apologizes a moment later for being so annoyingly angry. He definitely looks less like he wants to kill Adams and more like he’s ready to go to sleep. His dark circles are really accentuated in the low light of the lamp on his bedside table. 

  


She smiles softly to herself. He’s different, definitely, different than he was when he was a soldier, different now as a grown man, different now than he was a new father. He still looks like the Alexander Hamilton she’d spotted across the ballroom all those years ago, scruffy and handsome, stumbling a bit on his words for the first time in his life.

  


He’s her Alexander. No one else’s. 

  


.

  


_Eliza straightens, peering across the ballroom at a group of young soldiers, her heartbeat increasing significantly when she sees him. He’s lively, that’s sure, his drunk freckled friend leaning against his shoulder for support and his two other friends laughing joyfully, clinking glasses._

  


_He’s bright-eyed, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes, dark brown hair slicked back into a ponytail, dressed crisply. He’s in the military, he ought to be crisp. His smile, his eyes, everything is so… unlike_   _anything Eliza has ever seen. Her stomach churns._

  


_She blushes, looking away._

  


_She feels kind of stupid, she’s twenty-three, definitely too old to be staring across the ballroom at a boy and blushing as hard as she was. Eliza ducks her head, hiding the pinkish tint in her cheeks._

  


_Angelica jumps, holding a flute of champagne, half-empty. Angelica is always the life of the part, the confident one. Peggy is like her, but she’s less serious and ladylike. Very loose, while Angelica is rather tight. She loves her sisters, but she’s not like them._

  


_She’ll never be Peggy or Angelica. She’s just Eliza, and she quite content with that, even if she is the shy and awkward one._

  


_“Got your eye on someone, Liza?” Angelica asks suggests, nudging Eliza in the arm with her elbow._

  


_“No, just admiring the… chandeliers, I didn’t know mom and dad picked such a… nice one.” Eliza says awkwardly, looking away from her sister and up at the grand chandelier on the ceiling. It’s quite nice, really, gold and extravagant, adorned with crystals, something her mother would pick out and probably did from what she sees._

  


_“Come on. You know I can read you like a book. Who’s caught your eye, I can get him for you?” Angelica is bold, already married four years with two children, but it never seemed to hold her back. She loves her husband, didn’t elope for nothing, but she’s also a social butterfly, loves meeting new people. Eliza points, Angelica hands her drink over, strides confidently over to the young soldier, introducing herself._

  


_And before Eliza can blink, Angelica is walking over arm in arm with him, smiling brilliantly._

  


_Eliza hesitates for a moment, but gains enough courage to introduce herself, “Elizabeth Schuyler, its a pleasure to meet you.” She says, holding her hand out, assuming he’ll shake it._

  


_He looks puzzled, turns to Angelica, “Schuyler?”_

  


_Angelica smiles, pleased, “My sister.”_

  


_“Thank you for all your service,” Eliza says gratefully, almost shaking with nerves._

  


_“If it takes fighting a war for us to meet it will have been worth it.” He says with a smile, leaning down and kissing her hand, surprising both Eliza and Angelica._

  


_Angelica mouths something to her about him being a gentleman. Eliza has to agree. “I’ll leave you to it.” Angelica winks, walking off to join Peggy in another flute of champagne._

  


_“I didn’t get your name,” Eliza says, eyes bright._

  


_“Alexander Hamilton.” He says politely, shrugging._

  


_Eliza blushes again. She doesn’t see Angelica and Peggy do the rest of the evening, talking to Alexander the entire time._

  


.

  


Alexander can’t sleep. It’s not raining, there it’s a severe weather warning tonight, it’s just… so quiet. Eliza is at peace the most when she is sleeping, her eyes never wavering, shifting and breathing softly and contentedly.

  


She’s gorgeous.

  


He likes to think back to when their relationship was new, unscathed. Their correspondence with letters, the separation of the war, Philip and the other children, the separation of his career, the Reynolds Pamphlet. It’s all bound together now, their story written in plain English.

  


He remembers it all, all of the sweet little excerpts of her letters that he’d let run through his head while laying in his cot at night, the yearning, the tears of joy and pride when they’d welcomed every child, the encouragement for her to come back to sleep when he was working in the middle of the night at some ungodly hour, or the bitter pain and anger. He knows it all so well.

  


He yearns like he did when they were twenty-five, separated by state lines, expecting little Philip.

  


It’s no different now, the circumstances, sure, but the feeling hasn’t changed. Even with her laying right there next to him.

  


He yearns for her more than he cares to admit, but he can’t run the risk of pushing her as far as he had last time. She’s fragile right now.

  


.

  


_“Your father won’t like this, Betsey, I mean what if he finds us? He’ll kick me out and take back what he said about agreeing to our marriage—“ Alexander frets, pushing back the door of the Schuylers’ home library, stuck on the tons of books that adorn the shelves. He’s never seen such shelves full of books. Eliza interrupts his fretting and amazement, attacking his lips with a full kiss._

  


_The force of her kiss throws him against one of the shelves, the wood hitting his back, rattling the shelf that rests against the wall. Eliza is never like this, rough and demanding and callous. She’s sweet, has soft hair that smells like vanilla bean and a smile that squints her eyes when she puts it to use. He can write the most poetic things about her smile, it’s so beautiful, so distinctly Eliza._

  


_Something within his dear, sweet Betsey shifts, a sudden aggressive nature possessing her. Her lips are soft against his own, her kiss rough and demanding more and more from him, and he’s happy to give it, placing his hands of her slim hips and trying to mimic her enthusiasm._

  


_He absolutely cannot. He’s not like her._

  


_Eliza pulls away, breathlessly, lungs desperate, begging for air. She takes a breath, rests her forehead against his and laughs softly._

  


_“No farther than that until we have rings on our fingers, hm?” She asks, entwining their fingers. The ring fingers are bare, not yet adorned with matching wedding bands._

  


_“Only when you’re ready,” he kisses her pink lips softly, so in love with her and the fact that in a few shirts months she’s going to be his wife. He wonders if he’s rushing it, but he looks at Eliza, feels the love he has for her well up in his chest and is immediately reassured. This is the right decision, he’ll never regret it or question it._

  


_He wants her to be his wife now, he absolutely can’t wait to share a life, a home, and children with her._

  


.

  


Eliza immerses herself in the children even more, spending every available minute with one of them, helping John with his times tables or baking with Angie and the younger kids. She loves it, loves being their mother more than she can express.

  


She smiles, admittedly almost cries when John gets all of this times tables correct, bouncing William on her leg to keep him entertained. Her kids are all growing at amazing speed. As much as she loves to watch them grow and become more and more independent, she misses when they were still her babies. It pains her to think that Philip will be off to college sooner than later, and if he moves out of state, her heart will shatter. 

  


She gives John a triumphant high-five, smiling when the little brown-haired boy recites his tables to her. If the children inherited anything at all from Alexander, it was their impeccable little minds. The children worked much like their father did, intelligent and swift. Determined beyond belief.

  


“Can I go play with Jamie and Junior now?” John asks eagerly.

  


“Go ahead, darling, good job today, I’m so proud,” Eliza says, ruffling the boy’s hair, sending him off to the living room where his brothers are playing.

  


“Thanks, mama! I love you!” John says excitedly, running off.

  


Eliza sighs and kisses William's forehead and decides there’s some embroidery for her new niece or nephew that needs to be done.

  


.

  


“Are you okay?” Peggy asks, laying in her hospital bed, surrounded by colorful balloons and a beautiful bouquet of marigolds that her mother had dropped off earlier. She’s getting worse and there’s no clear diagnosis yet. Angelica and Eliza are left to wonder and sit with her in her hospital room, waiting for the test results to come back.

  


“Nervous,” Eliza says, tapping her foot. “Not only because you might be fatally ill, but also because I left the kids with Alexander and you know how he is when he’s nervous.”

  


“Oh please, I’m fine. And you can tell Alex that he needs to stop worrying.” Peggy insists, laughing softly as she knits a cute little onesie for Angelica’s baby.

  


“Peg,” Angelica says in a warning tone. “I’m glad you’re being optimistic, but you also have to be realistic about this.”

  


“Right, right.” Peggy waves a hand in dismissal. “You know, maybe this is just my plan. To die of cancer or some other horrible disease.”

  


“Come on,” Angelica scolds. “What did I tell you?”

  


“How about we talk about something else? Like Eliza, have you and Alex had make-up sex yet?” Peggy asks with a suggestive smirk.

  


Angelica laughs and Eliza swats at Peggy’s arm, turning scarlet red. “That’s not important, and everything is fine. He’s sleeping in our bed again, it’s not a big deal.”

  


“Okay. I believe you.” Peggy says sarcastically, returning to her knitting.

  


Angelica shrugs, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

  


Eliza is left to ponder.

  


.

  


_Alexander squeezes the bridge of his nose, fighting away a headache from the noise._

  


_He hates big productions like this, but it’s his wedding, he learns to deal with it as long as Eliza’s at his side. Today has been unlike any other day, dreamlike almost. It still doesn’t register in his mind, he’s married, Eliza is his wife._

  


_“You okay?” Eliza asks, latching onto his hand, entwining their fingers. They sit beside each other at the table while everyone else dances, Peggy and John laughing in unison as they twirl around on the dance floor together._

  


_“I’m fine.” He says, smiling softly, kissing her hand. “I’ve never been so happy, I guess I’m just a little… overwhelmed, but in a good way.”_

  


_Eliza smiles brilliantly. He has to admit that she looks amazing today, her hair and makeup done beautifully, though she’s gotten rather frustrated by the way her hair had been done and taken it down. He’s never been so in love with someone as he is with Eliza. She’s perfect, she’s his wife._

  


_He smiles, pressing a kiss to her cheek._

  


_“You’re my husband,” she says dreamily, tracing his cheekbone._

  


_“And you’re my wife.” He cups her cheek in his hand, kissing her lips lightly. His heart overflows with love for her. He can’t stop smiling._

  


. 

  


He’s working in his office, trying to concentrate on the financial plan. He’s been so stressed about Adams. Eliza worries, she’s just unsure about him right now. He’s himself, he’s still Alexander, still focused, still dedicated to his job.

  


She leans against his doorframe, watching as he chews on his bottom lip and works. His focus is very obvious, his fingers moving swiftly across the keys, typing out word for word. He squints at the screen, mutters a curse word under his breath and begins typing again.

  


He doesn’t see her standing in the doorway until he looks up ten minutes later. 

  


“Hey, how long have you been…?”

  


“Ten minutes, I just wanted to check up on you.” She says sweetly with a small smile, the door frame supporting her weight as she leans against it.

  


“Come here?” He asks timidly, tilting his head to the side, removing his glasses, unsure.

  


Eliza nods, lifting herself off of the doorframe, grabbing his hand when she approaches him, pulling, attempting to get him out of his seat. He laughs, pulls her toward him, down onto his lap.

  


He wonders again if he’s crossed another boundary.

  


Eliza shrugs, chuckling, rubbing her fingers through his messy, unwashed hair. Alexander breathes a breath of relief.

  


She leans into the crook of his neck and whispers softly into his ear, “You should come to bed, hm? I’ve, uh, missed you today.”

  


He rubs her back, blinking in surprise. 

  


“I will, just trying to get this done.” He doesn’t let go, instead further immersing himself in her, wrapping her arms around her.

  


Everything feels the same, it feels like them again. 

  


And she says it. “I love you, Alexander.” And she means it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it. right now on tumblr i'm taking fic requests and icon requests, so if you want just head on over and leave me a message in my asks! comments and kudos are very much appreciated.
> 
> check out my tumblr: schuylerrham


	8. chapter eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> real life fact: peggy was sick for two years before she died. alexander was at her side. *cries loudly* the letter he wrote to eliza informing her of peggy’s death can be read [here](https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-25-02-0195). don't worry, peggy's not gonna die in this chapter.
> 
> testing started, my anxiety has spiked and i apologize for the wait. i’ve decided that a schedule will be too demanding for me and probably put me under pressure just get the chapter out. i sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter, i really am very sorry that it took so so long! 
> 
> i’m also very hyped because i’m seeing hamilton in houston on the nineteenth of may and i’m so excited. i literally can’t wait!!
> 
> sorry, this author’s note was grossly long, but enjoy.

It’s another agonizing week of questions and more tests before the doctors on Peggy’s case reach a verdict. Angelica and Eliza stay the entire time, switching between who can go home, take a shower and a nap and come back. 

  


They are blunt and sympathetic, telling her that chemo is her best treatment option, especially because it’s more advanced. 

  


Peggy is in a state of silent shock for a few days. She doesn’t cry, doesn’t ask any questions, instead, she stares and knits because it’s all she can do to block it out. She doesn’t exactly want it to be real, and she can’t be herself—the same outgoing, sarcastic, belligerent Peggy—it feels too unnatural.

  


Angelica collects little gifts that Peggy has made for all of the people she loves in case she was to die.

  


Eliza rests her head on Peggy’s, stroking her sister’s frizzy brown curls, hugging her tightly. She realizes that she’ll feel incomplete without Peggy, she and Angelica are two parts of her heart, losing Peggy would be like losing a good third of her heart.

  


“Do you feel okay?” She asks, kissing her baby sister’s forehead. She feels tears sting behind her eyes. She knows she has to be strong for Peggy, she’s barely pulling herself together right now. She doesn’t need to feel worse than she does now.

  


“I-I don’t know.” Peggy can’t think, her brain is jumbled. Everything is suddenly so surreal.

  


“I love you,” Eliza says warmly, squeezing her sister. 

  


“I love you too.” She grasps Eliza’s hand, crying softly for the first time since she’s been diagnosed, her head aching in unison with her heart.

  


“Breathe,” Eliza says calmingly, her voice delicate and low as she rubs Peggy’s back soothingly.

  


She knows Peggy will pull through. She’s strong and so resilient. 

  


.

  


_ “Do you have nightmares sometimes?” Eliza asks Alexander on a quiet night. _

  


_ He falters as he goes to answer the question. Since returning home from Yorktown, Virginia, he’d had a few, definitely. He neglected to tell Eliza, though, not because he didn’t want her to know but because he didn’t want to burden her. She’s already gone through the better half of her first pregnancy without him present and for him to weigh more of his problems on her shoulders would be selfish. _

  


_ “Sometimes. Why?” He asks, his heart rate increasing. _

  


_ “Are they about the war?” She ignores his question in favor of her own. _

  


_ “Yeah.” He admits. For some reason, he’s ashamed. _

  


_ Eliza purses her lips, controlling all she can, biting back a river of tears. He’s damaged. He always has been, even before he met her, he was damaged and she doesn’t care. He’s good as new in her bright eyes. _

  


_ “I’m sorry.” She murmurs. She hadn’t wanted to upset him, but looking at him now, he looks bothered.  _

  


_ "Don't be. It's my problem."  _

  


_ Eliza frowns. "Alexander, we're married, your problems are mine too. I'm here for you." _

  


_ He breaths unsteadily, looking up at the ceiling as if for validation. _

  


_ “The nightmares are…” he can’t speak for a moment, his breath hitches in his throat as he attempts of breathe again. “Horrible.” _

  


_ Eliza wants to cry. She hates this, hates that Alexander is in pain. She wants to stop it, to be there for him. She hugs his side, pulling his body as close to hers as possible, she feels a painful sting in her stomach.  _

  


_ She wants to tell him everything, to say the things that she’s been too shy or embarrassed to say, even to her husband, but she can’t find words. She clenches her jaw tightly and kisses Alexander’s neck, trying so hard to let him know, without words, that she’s here and will never leave. She can’t.  _

  


_. _

  


She summons him to bed every night, sitting in his lap, pulling him out of his focused state. He doesn’t seem to mind, running his hands down her back, over the soft fabric of her shirt. She never used to do that before, she used to allow him to do as he needed, finish whatever project he found him working on. She didn’t intervene, though she’d sit in their bed and wait for him until she fell asleep. He can see it in her face, her beautiful dark eyes, that she’s tired. She’s never so lethargic, it’s usually him who’s always got sunken in eyes and a sleepy smile. It’s her now. The kids wear her down, no matter how much she loves them all, it’s just hard. 

  


He understands, but then again he knows he can never understand. 

  


She’s so attentive, so dedicated. He’s the same, but with his work. He loves the children, more than life itself, but he’s always so busy. It’s his own fault, he knows that, but he regrets that he doesn’t make time for them. 

  


Her hair falls around them, over his shoulders as she leans in, their foreheads pressed together, eyes locked. She smiles a soft upturn on her pink lips, running her thumb over his rough goatee. He hasn’t shaved in days, but she doesn’t mind. She kind of likes the roughness of his scruff. It’s oddly endearing. 

  


“You didn’t shave,” She murmurs, running her thumbs over his cheeks. 

  


“Didn’t have time, plus I think you like the beard, hm?” Alexander mutters, tilting his head, begging for a kiss.

  


Her kiss is soft against his lips, he gets kind of lost. 

  


His wife, his beautiful Betsey.

  


“Not exactly a beard yet, just scruff, but you’re getting there,” Eliza remarks when they pull away. 

  


He suddenly feels guilty, his heart panging in his chest. He wonders why he hadn’t taken a break. He knows on paper why, but he can’t exactly understand why he decided that a nice vacation with Eliza and the kids wouldn’t have been satisfactory. It always came back to work, the things he needed to be done for Washington, the things he needed to say so he could finally— _ finally _ —prove that prick Thomas Jefferson wrong.

  


He asks himself Eliza was ever enough. And she is now, but he’s not sure if his brain could register it at that time. He was a young secretary, so focused and hell-bent on making the country better. 

  


He realizes there’s a thin line between work and family.

  


He may have crossed it more than once over the last few years.

  


.

  


_ Peggy looks rather nervous at dinner. She hardly eats, picks at her food and doesn’t say anything while Catherine and Philip chat with Angelica about how things are going for her. She’s doing an internship in journalism, super close to finishing soon and getting herself a real job. She doesn’t want John to be the only provider of the family, she makes it very evident just in her work ethics. She’s always been determined in that way.  _

  


_ Eliza is distracted, bouncing Philip on her leg. He’s nearly two, and is probably the most active and happy baby Alexander has ever been around, but then again he hasn’t been around very many babies in general. Philip, though, is special, Alexander knows it.  _

  


_ When dinner is over, Alexander volunteers to help Peggy with the dishes. She’s almost mute, looks kind of nervous and like she’s done something wrong.  _

  


_ “Are you okay, Peg?” He decides that he better ask, she’s not acting like the loud, sarcastic Peggy he knows. _

  


_ “I’m fine.” She’s vague in her answer, loading the dishes hastily into the dishwasher.  _

  


_ “Are you because you don’t look like it?” Alexander presses. Peggy sighs, the sound exaggerated. She doesn’t want to talk, he can tell. Yet he feels like he can help.  _

  


_ ”You know you're a real asshole, right? I seriously question how Eliza puts up with you every day.” Peggy stresses, her nose scrunched in anger as it does when she's angry.  _

  


_ ”Sorry, I didn’t mean to be — I'm sorry, but are you okay?”  _

  


_ ”Well, ” she looks tentative. ”I can trust you, right?”  _

  


_ “Of course, I mean I’m your brother-in-law, tell me whatever.” _

  


_ “I’m pregnant.”  _

  


_ Alexander’s jaw drops, Peggy rolls her eyes. “Who…?” _

  


_ “This guy named Stephen.” She sighs, looks disappointed and scared. She’s not sure what her parents will say, she’s not married and she’s pregnant. She knows her deeply religious parents will not sit well with that. _

  


_ “I think you can do this, Peggy, really, you’re smart, level-headed, you’ll be fine.” He’s trying to be encouraging, though he’s not sure he’s doing that great of a job. _

  


_ “Stick to your day job, Hamilton,” Peggy says with a snort, nudging past Alexander and out of the kitchen once they’ve done their job.  _

  


_ Yeah, Peggy’s gonna be just fine. _

  


_. _

  


Eliza gathers the children into the dining room, enlisting Angie to help her set the table and Philip to give the younger kids their food. Things feel normal again like they did before. And Eliza loves if, savors the feeling of seeing all six of her children sitting at the dining table, Angie ranting aimlessly about something at school and Junior rolling his eyes playfully, probably not even listening.

  


The kids converse among themselves, teasing each other mercilessly, Angie threatening to throw a bread roll at Junior’s head at one point. Eliza is never too strict, she assumes a healthy amount of sibling rivalry is normal. She ignores it, only wanting to interfere when it gets out of hand. 

  


Luckily it hasn’t yet.

  


The family dinner is nice, the kids barely seem to notice their parents staring at each other whole time.

  


The kids all go to sleep, Angie tucks James and John in while Philip helps with William. He’s getting so big, Eliza’s sure he’ll start outgrowing his crib sooner than she thinks.

  


The house is quiet once more, Eliza prepares herself for bed. Alexander is quiet too. It’s unusual for him, Eliza knows something is wrong. The look on his face says it all. 

  


She sits on the bed, adjusts the pillows and raises her eyebrows at Alexander.

  


“Alexander? Are you all right?” Eliza asks, narrowing her eyes at him, her expression worried.

  


He winces. He thinks maybe he should tell her. It effects her too. It’s important. “I think…” he sighs, rubbing his temples, a headache coming on, “I’m gonna quit. My job.”

  


Eliza is baffled, her jaw hangs open in abject shock. “You… why?”

  


“I don’t think I can do it anymore, Betsey, it’s just with Adams being here instead of Washington, I don’t think I can do it anymore.” He confesses.

  


And suddenly, she’s unfazed, “Okay, if that’s what you want.” She places her hand over his, a smile gracing her lips. A sign of her overwhelming love and support for him.

  


It’s nice to be normal again.

  


.

  


_ Eliza’s world is spinning, her mind and heart racing in tandem. The pain is unbearable, and she’s absolutely helpless, unable to move because it hurts so much. Angelica is trying to help, holding a cool rag over Eliza’s forehead, checking in on her every few minutes to make sure she’s okay.   _

  


_ “Do you need anything?” Angelica asks gently, wiping away a few tears from her sister’s cheeks. _

  


_ “No. It hurts, Ang, make it stop, please.” Eliza pleads. _

  


_ “I’m sorry, Liz, there’s nothing I can do. But hey, just think about that moment when you see his face for the first time, hm? I bet he’s got Alexander’s eyes and your nose. Just think about that. That’s what I do anyway.” Angelica says soothingly. _

  


_ Angelica’s right. She can’t wait to meet her baby, she’s getting more and more anxious just thinking about it. Somehow, though, it distracts her from the sheer intensity of the pain running through her veins. It’s more manageable now. _

  


_ Angelica excuses herself, kissing Eliza’s temple softly before going to the door. Eliza hasn’t even realized that someone had been knocking on the door. _

  


_ “What do you want, Alexander?” Angelica hisses, opening the previously locked door. _

  


_ “I want to know how she’s doing, Angelica, jeez, you know she’s my wife, right?” His tone is spiteful, Eliza has never really understood Angelica and Alexander’s interactions. Angelica always seems… hurt when she talks to him. _

  


_ Angelica rolls her eyes, propping the door open for him. _

  


_ Eliza hears the light patter of footsteps against the old hardwood floors. Her parents’ mansion is ancient, but it certainly does the trick. It was a nice place to grow up, it kind makes her head spin that she’s about to have a baby in her childhood home. _

  


_ “Betsey, hey,” he says with a smile, sitting in the chair that Angelica had vacated, leaning down to kiss her temple. “How are we doing?” _

  


_ Eliza grits her teeth through the pain. She stares into Alexander’s eyes for encouragement. “Horrible. It hurts.” _

  


_ She presses her cheek to her pillow, burrowing into the covers, searching for warmth.  _

  


_ Alexander nods as if he knows. He does, partly, she made him read all of those books about pregnancy and labor, so he understands the concept, but he’ll never know the pain. She’s kind of jealous of that. “I know,” he nods, stroking her cheek tenderly. He can feel some of the tension in her muscles release. “You’re doing great, though, I’m so proud of you.” _

  


_ Eliza blushes, laughing softly. “You think so?” _

  


_ “I do. I just need you to promise me that you’ll be strong? Stick it out for our little one?” He asks, placing a comforting hand on her belly, almost unable to stay still with how excited he is. He feels like shouting from the rooftops that Eliza Schuyler-Hamilton, his wife, is having his baby and he’s very pleased with it.  _

  


_ Eliza smiles, though it’s more of a slight upturn of her lips than a smile. He assumes she’s in too much pain now to smile fully. His heart melts at the look on her face, stroking her cheek, kissing them both once and then her forehead. She’s absolutely perfect. He knows she can be strong.  _

  


_ “I’ll try, okay? Can’t make any promises.”  _

  


_ Angelica stands unassumingly in the doorway with a pained smile on her face. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to yell at me in the comments for taking forever to update. i forced myself to write this, it’s not my favorite, but it’s an update, and i feel bad for taking forever to update. i’ve kinda been struggling lately with some things, so i’m sorry if this is all over the place. but hey, i’m seeing ham in less than a month, so yay. anyway, i’m going to procrastinate and listen to the great comet instead of doing the things i need to do. comments and kudos are appreciated. bye.
> 
> check out my tumblr, i’m horribly desperate and taking prompts so leave one if you like: schuylerrham


	9. chapter nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things arise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am ridiculously sorry for the wait. school is literal hell at the end of the year, i have four projects due soon and then EOCs so i'm like STRESSED. anyway, i really hope you like this mess of a chapter.

_ Eliza reels with excitement when she reads Alexander’s letter for the first time. It’s more than she expected. His delicate cursive handwriting is impressive, definitely doesn’t match his rough and ragged appearance. The difference is charming, really. _

 

_ She unfolds the paper carefully as if a wrong move could cause it to immediately fall apart in her hands. She’s excited, absolutely can’t wait to tear his letter open and read it. _

 

_ And she does exactly that. _

 

_ She laughs, running her fingers over the smooth paper. His penmanship is amazing, his eloquence very evident in the way he writes. It’s as if it’s common like he speaks with such eloquence. She’s amazed, really, unsure of what to say, that if telling Angelica that he can write does the letter enough justice. _

 

_ She’s not sure what she can say to do justice to the letter he’s sent her. _

 

_ It’s so unlike anything she’s ever read. He’s unlike any person she’s ever met.  _

 

_ Angelica leans against the doorway, captures Eliza’s immediate delight as she reads it. _

 

_ “You look surprised,” Angelica remarks, crossing her arms over the chest, her tight black curls bouncing with movement. _

 

_ “Would it be wrong to say that I am?” Eliza asks, smiling brilliantly, folding the letter carefully and with as much precision as she can muster, prepared to keep it in a shoebox under her bed. “It’s amazing, Angie, he’s like a poet.” _

 

_ Angelica rolls her eyes, laughing softly. “I think someone’s in love, dear sister.” _

 

_ Eliza blushes. “Oh, please I’ve only just met him. It’s not like I’m considering marriage or anything.” _

 

_ Her sister nods, poking Eliza’s nose playfully. “Sure.”  _

 

_. _

 

Eliza hates the hospital. The hallways are so dark and cold, plain white walls and tiles. It’s depressing, kind of makes whatever situation you're in worse in a horrible way she can’t explain. She prefers Peggy’s room to them, it’s decorated with a bouquet of marigolds and “Get Well Soon” balloons all around. It’s happier, though Peggy is rather quiet these days.

 

Angelica is never one to pester, but Peggy’s mood strikes her as strange. She understands to some degree, though. Peggy has cancer. She’s allowed to react and deal with it any way she wants. But her somber attitude is so unlike her.

 

She sits and calmly knits, her nimble fingers weaving such intricate pieces, Eliza begins to think Peggy has better skill than her after only four months of experience. She knits things out of all kinds of colored yarn, but reserves all of the yellow for things for herself. She claims that it’s her favorite color, and it is. Practically everything she owns is yellow.

 

The sisters all sit together, Angelica preoccupied with something on her phone, Peggy knitting, and Eliza sitting, watching them both. 

 

She realizes then that she and her sisters are all so different. Angelica is the headstrong one, there’s no doubt about that. Eliza knows had she been the one diagnosed with cancer, she’d take it differently, probably not as hard. Peggy’s reaction says so much about her, so much that Eliza doesn’t understand. Peggy is the charismatic one, isn’t usually phased by bad things like this.

 

But now, something seems to have shifted.

 

Peggy different. She’s quiet, focused more on other things than her illness.

 

And that’s okay.

 

.

 

“I resigned.” Alexander’s voice firm when he says it, he doesn’t regret anything, can’t really say tag he’s made a mistake. He hasn’t. He’s actually kind of happy with it, happy that’s he’s done away with the source of his stress and frustration for the past few months. It’s good for that to be gone now.

 

Eliza is shocked, almost drops the book she was reading just before he’d entered the house and broke the news. “You did?” Her face says it all, he doesn’t need to question her thoughts on the matter.

 

“I did. It’s wasn’t… the same.” He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to explain it.

 

Eliza stares, setting her book down on the table. She looks unsure like something doesn’t connect. 

 

“Is this a good thing?” 

 

“For me it is. I can go back to being a lawyer, work for a firm. It’ll be easier, the work hours will be more flexible. I could spend more time with you and the kids.” Alexander reasons, he smiles slightly, keeping his eyes on Eliza.

 

Eliza is unreadable. Her face is a mix of confusion and… something he can’t quite label. She shrugs, stands and walks past him. “Okay.” 

 

Alexander watches her, narrows his eyes when she closes the bedroom door. It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t need to be. 

 

.

 

Alexander sits up that night, reluctant to come to bed. It’s nothing Eliza did, it’s never anything she does because she’s perfect and gentle and the best woman he knows. It’s him. It’s always him. He looks back and wonders what Eliza saw in him all those years ago when she picked him from the other side of the ballroom, or when Angelica left them to talk with her head down. The truth is, no matter how many times she tells him, he’ll never know. And he’s okay with that. He’s just happy to know that Eliza is there and that she loves him, even when he’s made the mistakes he has.

 

He reads over the Reynolds Pamphlet, cringes at some of his words, at the fact that it was eleven thousand words long and that he wrote it.

 

He did that to Eliza.

 

He broke her, drove her to burn their correspondence, run into Angelica’s arms in her moments of grief.

 

It’s all him. 

 

There’s a soft knock at the door. Alexander shuffles to put the Pamphlet away, thinking Eliza is behind the door. He’s surprised to see that it’s Philip standing in the doorway before him.

 

“Hey, Pip, what are you doing up? You have school tomorrow.” Alexander says gently to his oldest son. 

 

“I can’t sleep, Pops, I just went downstairs for a glass of water,” Philip explains. “Then I saw your office light on and I was wondering if you and Ma were… fighting again.” 

 

Alexander shakes his head, fiercely denying it. He and Eliza aren’t fighting. He doesn’t want to be fighting. He hates fighting with her, it’s always horrible, and Philip and Angie always get a sense of if. He assumes it’s because they’re older now. They’re less oblivious.

 

“No, no, buddy, everything’s fine. Why would you think that?” 

 

Philip shrugs. “I don’t know. Just kinda worried about you guys, that’s all.”

 

Alexander nods. “I love you, Pip, and your mom and siblings too, I hope you know that because it’s true. You guys are the best things that have ever happened to me.”

 

Philip smiles wearily. “I love you too, Pops.”

 

“Go to sleep now, it’s getting late.”

 

The door closes. Alexander returns to his shame and misery.

 

.

 

_ Eliza Schuyler-Hamilton considered herself a happy person. She smiled a lot, laughed a lot, too. Angelica and Peggy always teased her for being so obscenely happy all the time, smiling through the worst of things and inevitably through the best. _

 

_ She used to consider herself happy, in her childhood, in her awkward stages, which seemed everlasting, in her college days, in the steady relationship she had created with a certain Alexander Hamilton, in their marriage, too, and in motherhood later on. She found the good in all things, even when little Philip fell off of his bike and scraped his knee, Eliza had used that as a learning experience for her young son, after nursing him back to health, of course. _

 

_ She was happy. _

 

_ And now, she doesn’t know what she is. _

 

_ She looks, stares, and cringes at the papers in her hands, her stomach twisting and knitting uncomfortably. _

 

_ The Reynolds Pamphlet. _

 

_ Eleven thousand words, ninety-five pages long.  _

 

_ Alexander is stupid. _

 

_ That’s what Angelica told her. _

 

_ He’s an idiot, he’s Icarus, he flew too close to the sun and now his dead body drifts in the crisp ocean. _

 

_ She doesn’t bother crying. He cheated on her with a girl that was only twenty-three at the time, wrote an essay about the blackmail her husband put him through and released it for the whole work to read. _

 

_ And even then, he didn’t have enough decency to give her a warning first. _

 

_ All the while she sat, eight months pregnant, reading it. _

 

_ She hates him, wants to yell at him and curse at him and take all her anger out on his sorry ass. _

 

_ She sighs, crumpling the pages between her fists, throwing them in the garbage, vaguely contemplating burning them to sorry ashes, insignificant charred dust. _

 

_ That’s when she remembers that he’s going to be home. This evening. He’s going to say hi to the kids, come up with some idiotic excuse, apologize mercilessly until she tells him to sleep in his office tonight and every night after that. _

 

_ She can’t dwell. She vehemently refuses to. She has five children to take care of. _

 

.

 

The next few days are quiet. Eliza spends a lot of her day at the hospital with her sisters, laying with Peggy and talking with Angelica. It’s nice, she loves being there with the both of them and acting like little girls again, braiding each other’s hair and sharing knitting techniques.

 

And of course, talking.

 

They talk about everything, discuss Angelica’s most recent endeavors in the world of journalism and all of the cute things Will does as he grows. 

 

And Alexander.

 

Peggy brings it up in conversation, saying something about how he’s never at the hospital. She’s like him to be there, sure, but she doesn’t feel it’s her place to intervene.

 

A week ago, Eliza would have had a free pass to blame it on his work, but now that he’s resigned, she’s unsure. Alexander is always with the kids or busy with one project or another and time just gets lost in translation for him. She hates that Peggy thinks he doesn’t care because she knows he does, he’s just scared. He was faced with this as a child, his mother died of illness, and he’s not sure if he can handle it. Peggy is special, to her sisters, her parents, all of the children, and Alexander himself. She confides in him. Losing that, that person that he could help and support, would really be absolutely terrible. 

 

Alexander is afraid of a lot of things, it seems.

 

.

 

_ Angelica balls her hands into fists, staring down at them. She knows she should be happy for Eliza. It’s her wedding day, she’s married now and it’s a happy time, but it’s hard. It’s hard to watch Alexander and Eliza holding hands and smiling and laughing among themselves. It’s like a cruel joke, like torture. _

 

_ She shouldn’t feel this way. She has a husband and kids. It’s wrong on so many different levels. _

 

_ Eliza saunters over, holding her dress is he’s doesn’t trip over it. “Hey, Ang!” She’s stupidly happy, Angelica can just tell. She’s never seen Eliza so happy and radiant. It pains her even more. This isn’t right. And it’s all her fault. If she hadn’t met Alexander first if… Eliza hadn’t seen him across the ballroom if she and John hadn’t married so hastily if she had only listened to her father.  _

 

_ It’s shameful. _

 

_ “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be dancing with Daddy?” Angelica asks, putting on a smile that seems semi-real. _

 

_ “We did that already, he almost tripped on my dress. I caught him, he’s okay.” Eliza giggles. _

 

_ Angelica’s heart squeezes painfully.  _

 

_ There’s nothing that can be changed, she can’t tell Alexander that she loves him, she can’t leave John. _

 

_ So she stays. Unhappily so. _

 

_ “That’s good. Wanna dance with me?” Angelica offers, more as a distraction than anything else. _

 

_ Eliza nods, yanking Angelica toward her and dragging her onto the dance floor. _

 

_ Might as well forget. _

 

_. _

 

Peggy passes out at around nine at night. Eliza sits patiently on her side, about ready to collect her things and drive home for the night. Angelica has other ideas.

 

Angelica’s eyebrows raise when she sees Eliza stand and adjust her shirt. She would not have done this sixteen years ago, but now seems right. She can’t exactly say why, but it’s her gut instinct.  

 

“Eliza? Can we talk before you leave? I have something I need to get off my chest.” Angelica says, her voice bold, just the way she has always been.

 

Eliza has a bad habit of thinking Angelica is better than her, smarter, prettier. It’s not true, she knows, but her brain is always nagging at her about it. 

 

“Yeah? Something wrong?” Eliza’s concerned now, her brow furrows expectantly. 

 

“No, take a seat? I just have to say this.” Angelica insists gently, patting the seat beside her.

 

Eliza nods, smiling softly at her sister. The air in the room suddenly becomes thick, it’s like something is sitting on Angelica’s chest, restricting her breathing. She tries not to let the tears come gushing out just yet.

 

She takes Eliza’s hands, figures that it’s the right move. She doesn’t want to do this, hates that she has to hurt Eliza this way. She’s already been through so much with Alexander and the Pamphlet.

 

“That night when you and Alexander met… I…” she takes a breath, composes herself enough to say the next few words, though it's pretty tough. “I met him first and I… don’t know how to explain it but I felt things and I let you have him because you both looked so… happy around each other. I couldn’t take that from you, and I suffered through everything because I… I didn’t want to hurt you. I love you so much, Eliza, and I couldn’t hurt you like that, I couldn’t take him from you. You don’t have to say anything or apologize, I just needed you to know this. I needed you to know. It’s been tearing me up for sixteen years. It’s okay if you’re mad at me, take all the time you need, I just… I’m so sorry.”

 

Eliza feels like she’s been hit by a bus. She stares, her thoughts racing, her face scrunched up in confusion.

 

“Oh, Ang… I… I’m so sorry you felt that way,” Eliza says, he heart is shattered. She hugs her eldest sister, cries into her shoulder. She can’t think, can’t believe that Angelica has been silently suffering just for the sake of keeping her happy.

 

She doesn’t know how it’s possible, but it makes her love both Angelica and Alexander a lot more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it! thanks for reading!
> 
> check me out on tumblr: schuylerrham


	10. chapter ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there is so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m well aware that i’m the worst for making y’all wait so long for this chapter, i’ve had a pretty hard time trying to write this chapter. anyway i finally saw Hamilton like two weeks ago in Atlanta and it was amazing! i sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter!

 

 

_ The days on the calendar start to lessen as Eliza adds a red X to each day that passes. She stares loomingly at the calendar every day, fiddling with her red Sharpie and waiting. It’s stupid, but she always likes to wait a minute, give the baby a moment where it is free to come so she won’t have to cross that day off. It never happens, she always stares longingly at her stomach, rubbing a hand over it tenderly. _

 

_ She’s so done with being pregnant. She just wants her body to herself again, wants for her baby to join her and Alexander in their cramped little apartment. _

 

_ “Nothing?” Alexander asks, raising an eyebrow while Eliza waddles meticulously across the kitchen where the calendar hangs on the wall to the couch. He can’t help but smile when he looks at her. She’s an adorable thing, especially now, all flustered and “prepared” for childbirth. She likes to say that she’s that—prepared—but Alexander can never be sure. Eliza is so indecisive while pregnant. One minute she could be begging the baby to just come already and the next she could be crying saying she wasn’t ready. He kept his guard up, played along with her. It’s what seems to get him out of trouble. _

 

_ “No. Not even false labor pains!” She says, her enthusiasm borderline annoyance.  _

 

_ “Eliza, honey, you know that this takes time. What’s today? The twentieth? You were due on the seventeenth, it’s only been three days. I’m sure it won’t drag on as long as you think.” Alexander assures, watching from an armchair as she plops down on the couch, frustration evident. _

 

_ “If you really think so…” She sighs, rubbing her stomach. She cringes at it, it’s so large, uncharacteristically large, she doesn’t remember it being like this just a few days ago. Maybe it’s a sign of early labor.  _

 

_ “I do think so.” Alexander insists. So stubborn. _

 

_ “Will you paint my toenails? I’d like my feet to look nice when I see them again after six months.” Eliza requests, tilting her head at Alexander. _

 

_ He laughs. “You want me to paint your nails? Don’t you know how much of a disaster that would be? I’ll get nail polish everywhere!”  _

 

_ “No you won’t. Why don’t you go get the light blue bottle, some cotton balls, and the nail polish remover from the bathroom, dear? I’ll teach you how to do it.” She’s sweet, smiles brightly and her head tilted to the side. He can’t say no, so he nods and head of to the bathroom dutifully. _

 

_ When he walks off, disappearing into the bathroom, she can’t help but think about how much she loves her Alexander. Hers and no one else’s. _

 

_. _

 

A few weeks after he quits, Alexander is still out of a job. He writes some political essays, submits them to all those story-hungry journalists. The media is a circus after he leaves the White House, so much so that Eliza doesn’t allow him to watch the news. She always changes it to the station the kids watch instead because she knows Alexander too well. It’s all too much. For him, for her, for their family. 

 

He still spends so many nights secluded in his office, writing. He has fewer excuses now, though, spends so much more of his time with the boys outside and helping Angie with her piano technique. He’s like himself again, almost, like the job had made him so unhappy that the life had been sucked out of him until he quit. And he was awake and alive and happy.

 

He cuts himself off at half-past ten, walks carefully down the hallway to his and Eliza’s room and scares her out of reading. She jumps when she sees him, the sight so unusual and rare —Alexander Hamilton coming to bed before midnight, she’s sure it hasn’t happened very many times in the many years they’ve been married — she’d been unable to believe it almost.

 

“Are you okay? Did I scare you?” Alexander asks, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, watching Eliza’s dumbfounded expression shift into one of delight. 

 

“You did. A bit. I’m fine, glad to have you to bed early.” She says, a bright smile on her face. She decides to make the best of this rare situation. She’s not sure she’s truly processed how much she misses having him here. The many years of waiting until almost midnight for him to come to bed have grown on her, she usually reads until she falls asleep to pass the time.

 

Alexander cracks a smile, throwing the comforter back and placing his glasses carefully on the nightstand. Eliza switches her lamp off, her book closed, leaning back heavily against the pillows. The room is dark and the house is impossibly silent. All the kids are asleep, even Philip, Eliza had checked.

 

“Why did you come down to bed so early?” Eliza asks, less interested than she sounds, but still curious.

 

“I figured I needed a break. And I wanted to see you.” He admits, a little embarrassed. 

 

Eliza laughs softly to herself, turning to lay comfortably on her side. “I missed you.” She says it slowly, wrapping her arms around him, hugging his body close to hers. She’s forgotten about this in all her bitterness and resentment. She’d forgotten the feeling of just not caring about anything else but Alexander. It’d been so long since she last time she’d laid with him like this. She remembers now what it felt like, how they were before. Entwined, young, happy.

 

She yearns for that now. She feels like it’s there again, partly. It’s nice to know what it feels like again.

 

.

 

The hospital is quiet when Eliza arrives at nearly four in the morning, having rushed hastily out of the house at a call Angelica had made to her. Peggy had an episode, he heart stopped. That’s all Eliza knows.

 

She’s anxious, and the hospital hallways bring back memories, good ones of the many new additions to their family, and undoubtedly bad ones of the pain and anguish of losing a child. She’d blinked slowly when she’d walked by the maternity ward, her feelings mixed.

 

The rest of the five-minute walk to Peggy’s room is quick, Eliza sees nothing notable, except for the atmosphere, the fluorescent lights shining over every surface of the building, the strong scent of the sterilized area. Everything is so bleary, so cold and desolate because of the hour. 

 

Angelica is standing wearily by the door when she arrives, tired, still very pregnant. It’s unclear what she feels, she looks so dreary and exhausted Eliza can’t read her. She’s usually always able to read Angelica.

 

“Is Peggy okay?” Is Eliza’s first question.

 

“I don’t know. They think she might’ve gone into cardiac arrest. God knows why.” Angelica says calmly. She’s so tough, she always has been. Eliza assumes it’s part of what makes her such an exceptional older sister. She was always there when they were younger, always protecting her sisters and doing what she could to keep the same and within reach. Eliza can’t imagine how she feels now that she can’t protect either of her sisters from illness or Alexander Hamilton’s flawed logic. “They’re doing tests. We can’t go in until she’s back from her scans.”

 

Eliza tips her head to the side, a small nod. Angelica folds her arms, stares blankly ahead and tries not to acknowledge the palpable amount of awkwardness. It’s never been like this, they’re so close, the silence almost makes Eliza want to burst into tears. She loves her sister, even if her confession had caused the rift in their relationship.

 

“I love you, Angie,” Eliza says, her sister perks up slightly.

 

“You’re not mad?” Angelica asks with wide eyes, surprise adorning her features.

 

“No. I couldn’t be mad at you, Ang. So it was like sixteen years ago. Does it really matter all that much?” Eliza asks, eyes searching for Angelica’s.

 

Angelica almost pounces, hugs her sister joyfully, as if relieved. 

 

They’re gonna be fine and so is Peggy, Eliza knows it.

 

.

 

Alexander rubs his eyes, awoken by the sound of the front door shutting downstairs and footsteps coming up the staircase. His eyes flicker over the clock, checking the time, confused, if anything, who was coming up the stairs at such an hour.

 

Eliza trudges in, her purse slung over her shoulder, hands clasped together.

 

“Where were you?” Alexander asks, voice groggy, rasping almost.

 

“Hospital. Peggy had an episode. She’s fine now.” Eliza says, setting her purse down, kicking her shoes off and quickly changing. 

 

“Good. That’s good.” Alexander nods, eyes fixated on his wife—he can’t get over her, she’s gorgeous. It’s just everything about her, her hair, long, dark, and silky, her beautiful face and round cheeks, the way she blushed at every possible moment. 

 

“You’re staring,” Eliza remarks, throwing an old t-shirt of hers over her torso. 

 

He laughs, watching as she saunters carefully over to the bed, tired and droopy. “Sorry. I just—I love you.”

 

Eliza’s lips curl into a grin as she throws the thick comforter over her legs, attempting to warm up—the house is so cold, probably because Philip was messing with the thermostat again.  “I love you too.” She croons, leaning forward to press a light kiss to his lips. 

 

She feels like she should tell him. About Angelica, about the repressed feelings and the shame. Her breath hitches in her throat as Alexander presses kisses into the crook of her neck, nuzzling her and effectively warming her up.  

 

She swallows, runs a hand over Alexander’s hair, and decides against it. Maybe it’s not important, maybe he just doesn’t need to know. Maybe she’s selfish. She sighs, kisses Alexander’s temple and burrows into his warmth, ignoring it. 

 

.

 

_ Eliza puts Philip to bed rather early, kisses his forehead and runs a hand over his curly hair—it’s really interesting how curly his hair is, she can only suspect it came from somewhere on her side of the family. She’s absolutely worn out, longing to just get herself to bed.  _

 

_ She sits impatiently on the couch, staring blankly ahead at the door, unable to focus on the blurry muffled sounds coming from the TV. She’s getting more and more anxious by the minute, just waiting for Alexander to tiredly hobble through the door, carrying his briefcase, his suit more than likely wrinkled. _

 

_ The lock turns some fifteen minutes after Eliza had first sat down. Her eyebrows raise and she jumps in surprise, fiddling idly with the necklace around her neck—her favorite gold one with an ‘E’ charm, a heartfelt gift from Angelica.  _

 

_ “Hi.” She says, her cheeks lighting up immediately when she sees Alexander, tired, his suit definitely wrinkled, eyes sunken in with neglected sleep. _

 

_ “Hey,” he greets, setting his briefcase carefully on the floor near the coat hanger, untying his tie. He leans down to kiss her from where she’s sitting on the couch, cupping her warm cheek in his hand, a blush gracing her cheeks yet again. “How was your day with Pip?” _

 

_ “Good. He’s dead asleep, he had a lot of fun with Peggy and Angelica earlier when they visited.” Eliza informed as she watched Alexander shed his coat and tie, unbuttoning his crisp dress shirt. _

 

_ “I’m glad. Do you mind if I go give him a kiss? I won’t wake him, I just miss him.” Alexander says, watching Elisa shift on the couch as if anxious and uncomfortable. _

 

_ “Go ahead. He won’t wake up anyway, he was exhausted before I got him down.”  _

 

_ She waits another few minutes, tapping her foot now in anticipation. _

 

_ Alexander eventually emerges from Philip’s room a few minutes later, still looking exhausted and spent. “Coming up to bed?” He asks. _

 

_ “Yeah.” Eliza jumps, nodding her head and rising to her feet. _

 

_ Once in their room, Eliza decides that she’s waited long enough and she needs to tell him. He’s ready for bed by the time she gains enough courage to do it. “I’m pregnant, Alexander.” She says it, tilting her head to the side when he hears the words and processes them.  _

 

_ “Y-you are?” He looks shocked, beside himself. _

 

_ “Yeah.” She nods, unsure of his feelings about the news. _

 

_ He smiles widely, ear-to-ear, kissing her fully on the lips and laughing giddily. She hadn’t expected anything less than ecstatic delight from him at the news. His hands migrate to her stomach, not yet taken shape. “I love you.” He confesses into her ear, his voice barely above that of a whisper. It means just as much.  _

 

_ “I love you too.” Just her and Alexander and no one else. She grins giddily, barely able to contain the sheer joy and excitement she feels in the moment.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it! tell me what you think in the comments and give kudos if you enjoyed. i really miss getting comments so if you could leave one you don’t know how happy it would make me!
> 
> check out my tumblr: schuylerrham


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